“I don't want to see another church; the smell of the places makes me sick. Stale incense, old sweat, and lies...
"In the Hills, the Cities”
“There was a memory and a promise of blood in the air.”
“Kaufman almost smiled at the perfection of its horror. He felt an offer of insanity tickling the base of his skull, tempting him into oblivion, promising a blank indifference to the world.”
“He was to be their page, their book, the vessel for their autobiographies. A book of blood. A book made of blood. A book written in blood.”
“Kaufman calculated the risks of his situation: the mathematics of panic.”
“Especially politics; that was the best trough to wallow in. You could get your snout, eyes, head and front hooves in that mess of muck and have a fine old time splashing around. It was an inexhaustible subject to devour, a swill with a little of everything in it, because everything, according to Judd, was political.”
“Minds weren't pictures at an exhibition, all numbered, and hung in order of influence, one marked "Cunning," the next, "Impressionable." They were scrawls; they were sprawling splashes of graffiti, unpredictable, unconfinable.”
“Es war ekelerregend, es war sauberste Arbeit, und es verwirrte zutiefst.”
“Si el amor se alimenta de música, seguid tocando"
(Shakepeare)”
“There was no harm done; and what would a Resurrection be without a few laughs?”
“The carcass closest to him was the remains of the pimply youth he'd seen in Car One. The body hung upside-down, swinging back and forth to the rhythm of the train, in unison with its three fellows; an obscene danse macabre. Its arms dangled loosely from the shoulder joints, into which gashes an inch or two deep had been made, so the bodies would hang more neatly.”
“Lo tocó como nunca antes se había atrevido a hacerlo, acariciando su cuerpo con la punta de los dedos muy, muy suavemente, recorriendo la piel levantada como una mujer ciega leyendo braille.”
“...es mejor estar preparados para lo peor y es de sabios aprender a caminar antes de perder el aliento.”
“Logic is the last refuge of a coward.”
“He was to be used to record their testaments. He was to be their page, their book, the vessel for their autobiographies. A book of blood. A book made of blood. A book written in blood. She thought of the grimoires that had been made of dead human skin: she'd seen them, touched them. She thought of the tattoos she'd seen: freak show exhibits some of them, others just shirtless laborers in the street with a message to their mothers pricked across their backs. It was not unknown, to write a book of blood.”
“I had never really thought of children as people, just as mysterious and needy creatures on their way to something greater.”
“Because if you don't have at least one person believing in you, then there's not much reason to give a shit about anything.”
“The scenes in our life resemble pictures in a rough mosaic; they are ineffective from close up, and have to be viewed from a distance if they are to seem beautiful. That is why to attain something desired is to discover how vain it is; and why, though we live all our lives in expectation of better things, we often at the same time long regretfully for what is past. The present, on the other hand, is regarded as something quite temporary and serving as the only road to our goal. That is why most men discover when they look back on their life that they have been living the whole time ad interim, and are surprised to see that which they let go by so unregarded and unenjoyed was precisely their life, was precisely that in expectation of which they lived.”
“If we always do what we’ve always done, we will always be who we’ve always been. —Anonymous”
“Decide di dare una risposta falsa, perché lo imbarazza dire che cosa salverebbe davvero da un incendio. La cosa che davvero salverebbe in caso d'incendio è Lena.”
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