Art Spiegelman · 136 pages
Rating: (101.9K votes)
“Samuel Beckett once said, "Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness."
...On the other hand, he SAID it.”
“if they brought you here,They'll put you to work. THEY'RE not readyto kill you YET.”
“Anja? What is to tell? Everywhere I look I'm seeing Anja... From my good eye, from my glass eye, if they're open or they're close, always I'm thinking on Anja.”
“it’s a shame he’s such a sadistic bastard, because he has wonderful manners.”
“If you mean that boys are easy to deal with," Christopher said, "I'm afraid this is not the case. Not boys from Twelve A."
"And not girls either," the Goddess said loudly. "Not from anywhere.”
“Homer looked back at me. 'Pete, can I tell ya somethin' real important?'
'Sure, what is it?' I couldn't imagine what Homer was about to say.
He sat down on a rounded rock. I sat down too.
'One thing I've learned is that ya never know what's gonna happen to ya in this old life. Everything can change, just like that.' He snapped his fingers, loud and fast. 'You never know what might happen to ya and that dawg ah yers. Ya know what you should do? You ought to settle down here ... On my mountain.' His words were coming quickly and eagerly. 'I'll teach ya all the ways of livin' up here, and someday when ya get a place built, you can have yerself a family.'
Homer wasn't kidding me.
'And, besides, ya know I ain't gonna be here forever. When I leave, then you can take care of this place for me. You understand more than anyone why I love this place so much. I know ya wouldn't let them lumbermen and hunters come up here and hurt my place.'
There was a shell around Homer and reaching his heart was like breaking a granite boulder with your bare hands. But now, Homer's heart was breaking. After he finished he turned away from me. When he turned back, his questioning eyes were teary.
'Homer, what you just said was beautiful.' I looked down at my boots and rolled a rock back and forth under my heel. 'But, I don't know. I'll have to give it some serious thought, okay?'
As quickly as Homer had broken his stride and opened himself up, he was fast on his feet walking back up the mountain. He stayed as quiet as the king trees that he loved so much, never again saying a word to me about his amazing invitation.”
“Can a split quill write fair script?
Can a blunt axe cut wood for the fire?
Can a cripple please a lady?”
“My childhood home was a large, light-blue, two-story house with a big front yard to play in.”
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