In the fatal course of the most painful ailments, sometimes […], sometimes there occur sweet mornings of perfect repose- and that not owning to some blessed pill or potion […] or at least without our...
If you want to make a movie out of my book, have one of these faces gently melt into my own, while I look.
I recall one particular sunset. It lent an ember to my bicycle hell. Overhead, above the black music of telegraph wires, a number of long, dark-violet clouds lined with flamingo pink hung motionless i...
He was powerless because he had no precise desire, and this tortured him because he was vainly seeking something to desire.
He must be always on his guard and devote every minute and module of life to the decoding of the undulation of things. The very air he exhales is indexed and filed away. If only the interest he provok...
Every author believes, when his first book is published, that those that acclaim it are his personal friends or impersonal peers, while its revilers can only be envious rogues and nonentities.
By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.
Both were diverted by life's young fumblings,both saddened by the wisdom of time
After all, there is no harm in smiling.
Eventually, however, a distraught McCoo in wet clothes turned up at the only hotel of green-and-pink Ramsdale with the news that his house had just burned down - possibly, owing to the synchronous con...
Before I drove to wherever the beast's lair was - and then pulled the pistol's foreskin back, and then enjoyed the orgasm of the crushed trigger.
Great novels are above all great fairy tales . . . literature does not tell the truth but makes it up.
I am looking at him, I am witnessing a unique physiological phenomenon: John Shade perceiving and transforming the world, taking it in and taking it apart, re-combining its elements in the very proces...
…my Lolita remarked: You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about...
– Szeret mindent, amit a szép lányok szeretnek – mondta Van –, a bálokat, az orchideákat és a Cseresznyéskert-et.
بعضیها _ که من هم یکی از آنها هستم _ از قصههایی که پایان خوش دارند بدشان میآید. احساس میکنیم گول خوردهایم. روال بر ضرر است. تقدیر نباید متوقف شود. بهمنی که در مسیرش درست در چند متری بالای سر ی...
Но някъде отвъд кипналото щастие се съвещаваха смутени сенки — и колко съжалявам, че не се вслушах в тях!
Боже мой, как я ненавижу все это - лавки, вещи за стеклом, тупое лицо товара и в особенности церемониал сделки, обмен приторными любезностями до и после! А эти опущенные ресницы скромной цены... благо...
The good reader is one who has imagination, memory, a dictionary, and some artistic sense–
In a livid wet dress, under the tumbling mist... had run ecstatically up that ridge above Moulinet to be felled there by a thunderbolt.