Time is a fluid condition which has no existence except in the momentary avatars of individual people.
War is an episode, a crisis, a fever the purpose of which is to rid the body of fever. So the purpose of a war is to end the war.
Sometimes I could put myself to sleep saying that over and over until after the honeysuckle got all mixed up in it the whole thing came to symbolize night and unrest I seemed to be lying neither aslee...
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar...
She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the...
Menfolks listens to somebody because of what he says. Women don't. They don't care what he said. They listens because of what he is.
Love doesn't die; the men and women do.
It's not when you realise that nothing can help you - religion, pride, anything - it's when you realise that you don't need any aid.
It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with ea...
It does not take long. Soon the fine galloping language, the gutless swooning full of sapless trees and dehydrated lusts begins to swim smooth and swift and peaceful. It is better than praying without...
If it could just be a hell beyond that: the clean flame the two of us more than dead. Then you will have only me then only me then the two of us amid the pointing and the horror beyond the clean flame...
I suppose that people, using themselves and each other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue...
Before us the thick dark current runs. It talks up to us in a murmur become ceaseless and myriad, the yellow surface dimpled monstrously into fading swirls travelling along the surface for an instant,...
Because Father said clocks slay time. He said time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why.
He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary."(on Ernest Hemingway
Quentin had grown up with that; the mere names were interchangeable and almost myriad. His childhood was full of them; his very body was an empty hall echoing with sonorous defeated names; he was not...
Your outside is just what you live in, sleep in, and has little connection with who you are and even less with what you do.
They say love dies between two people. That’s wrong. It doesn’t die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you aren’t good enough, worthy enough. It doesn’t die; you’re the the one that dies. It’s like th...
They killed us, but they ain't whooped us yet.