“I was not proud of what I had learned but I never doubted that it was worth knowing.”
“Like most others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.”
“It gave me a strange feeling, and the rest of that night I didn’t say much, but merely sat there and drank, trying to decide if I was getting older and wiser, or just plain old.”
“Happy," I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love, that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don’t have much faith in them and I am no exception – especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong. They are too elusive and far to relative when you compare them to sharp, mean little words like Punk and Cheap and Phony. I feel at home with these, because they’re scrawny and easy to pin, but the big ones are tough and it takes either a priest or a fool to use them with any confidence.”
“There was an awful suspicion in my mind that I'd finally gone over the hump, and the worst thing about it was that I didn't feel tragic at all, but only weary, and sort of comfortably detached.”
“I felt a tremendous distance between myself and everything real.”
“The scene I had just witnessed (a couple making love in the ocean) brought back a lot of memories – not of things I had done but of things I had failed to do, wasted hours and frustrated moments and opportunities forever lost because time had eaten so much of my life and I would never get it back. I envied Yeoman and felt sorry for myself at the same time, because I had seen him in a moment that made all my happiness seem dull.”
“and the sad notes floated out to the
patio and hung in the trees like birds too tired to fly”
“I shared a vagrant optimism that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I felt that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actor, kidding ourselves on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between those two poles - a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other - that kept me going.”
“sounds of life and movement, people getting ready and people giving up, the sound of hope and the sound of hanging on, and behind them all, the quiet, deadly ticking of a thousand hungry clocks...”
“No matter how much I wanted all those things that I needed money to buy, there was some devilish current pushing me off in another direction -- toward anarchy and poverty and craziness. That maddening delusion that a man can lead a decent life without hiring himself out as a Judas Goat.”
“He had come so far from himself that I don't
think he knew who he was anymore.”
“She was wearing the same clothes, but now she looked haggard and dirty. The delicate illusions that get us through life can only stand so much strain.”
“A man can live on his wits and his balls for only so long.”
“With the palms zipping past and the big sun burning down on the road ahead, I had a flash of something I hadn’t felt since my first months in Europe—a mixture of ignorance and a loose, “what the hell” kind of confidence that comes on a man when the wind picks up and he begins to move in a hard straight line toward an unknown horizon.”
“I wanted to take off all my clothes and never wear them again.”
“Whatever he might have denied me was unimportant; it was the
fact that he could deny me anything at all, even what I didn't want”
“The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but to those who can see it coming and jump aside.”
“She laughed. 'It won't last. Nothing lasts. But I'm happy now.'
'Happy,' I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love, that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don't have much faith in them and I am no exception--especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong. They are too elusive and far too relative when you compare them to sharp, mean little words like Punk and Cheap and Phony. I feel at home with these, because they're scrawny and easy to pin, but the big ones are tough and it takes either a priest or a fool to use them with any confidence.”
“He gave my hand a final shake. “Okay, Kemp,” he said with a grin. “Thanks a lot – you came through like a champ.” “Hell,” I said, starting the engine. “We’re all champs when we’re drunk.”
“He wandered into the Newsroom and asked for a job the same way he’d walk into a barbershop and ask for a haircut, and with no more idea of being turned down.”
“It was the kind of town that made you feel like Humphrey Bogart: you came in on a bumpy little plane, and, for some mysterious reason, got a private room with balcony overlooking the town and the harbor; then you sat there and drank until something happened.”
“we left about midnight and walked down the hill in silence. the night was muggy, and all around me i felt the same pressure, a sense of time rushing by while it seemed to be standing still. whenever i thought of time in puerto rico, i was reminded of those old magnetic clocks that hung on the walls of my classrooms in high school. every now and then a hand would not move for several minutes -- and if i watched it long enough, wondering if it had finally broken down, the sudden click of the hand jumping three for four notches would startle me when it came.”
“In the meantime, I would drink, rest, and ponder the meaning of this mob.”
“Old God sure was in a good mood when he made this place.”
“I had come to regard him as a loner with no real past and a future so vague that there was no sense talking about it.”
“There is something fresh and crisp about the first hours of a Caribbean day, a happy anticipation that something is about to happen, maybe just up the street or around the next corner.”
“But I knew it was pure masturbation, because down in my gut I wanted nothing more than a clean bed and a bright room and something solid to call my own at least until I got tired of it. There was an awful suspicion in my mind that I'd finally gone over the hump, and the worst thing about it was that I didn't feel tragic at all, but only weary, and sort of comfortably detatched.”
“Though I was careful never to mention it, I began to see a new dimension in everything that happened.”
“Not much of what he said was original. What made him unique was the fact
that he had no sense of detachment at all. He was like the fanatical football fan who
runs onto the field and tackles a player. He saw life as the Big Game, and the whole
of mankind was divided into two teams -- Sala's Boys, and The Others. The stakes
were fantastic and every play was vital -- and although he watched with a nearly
obsessive interest, he was very much the fan, shouting unheard advice in a crowd of
unheard advisors and knowing all the while that nobody was paying any attention to
him because he was not running the team and never would be. And like all fans he
was frustrated by the knowledge that the best he could do, even in a pinch, would be
to run onto the field and cause some kind of illegal trouble, then be hauled off by
guards while the crowd laughed.”
“Un gran escritor no es más que un escritor. La diferencia es de matiz, no de raíz. Todos los saltadores de altura saltan, digamos, dos metros. Si uno salta dos metros y cinco centímetros, ya es un gran deportista. No, no merece la pena fatigarse siquiera con la idea de llegar a ser un pobre gran escritor, un desdichado escritor genial. Coge los mejores libros escritos jamás. Apenas son algo mejores que los libros mediocres. Todos son fundamentalmente libros nada más. Te proporcionarán, cuando los leas, un placer estético algo más intenso. Como un café un poco más dulce. Los soltarás al cabo de treinta páginas para prepararte un bocadillo o para ir al baño. Los leerás a la vez que quién sabe qué novela policiaca. Dentro de unos miles de años también ellos serán tierra y polvo. En estas condiciones, que tú, un ser al que se le ha concedido la oportunidad disparatada de existir y de reflexionar sobre el mundo, te propongas llegar a ser tan solo un genio es humillante, es ínfimo. Es como si abandonaras todo y te internaras de nuevo en el bosque. En cada individuo hay posibilidades ante las cuales la ambición de ser el escritor más importante de todos los tiempos es simplemente denigrante por su simplicidad. Porque ¿qué milagro es importante comparado con el de existir y de saber que existes? De aquí hasta ser el hombre más rico, el más poderoso, el más ingenioso del mundo es como pasar de un billón a un billón uno, incluso menos. No, no quiero llegar a ser un gran escritor, quiero llegar a ser Todo. Sueño sin cesar con un creador que, a través de su arte, llegue a influir de verdad en la vida de las personas, de todas las personas, y después en la vida de las personas, de todas la personas, y después en la vida del universo, hasta las estrellas más lejanas, hasta el final del espacio y del tiempo. Y que a continuación sustituya al universo, que se convierta él mismo en el Mundo. Sólo así creo que podría un hombre, un artista, cumplir su misión. El resto es literatura, una colección de trucos mejor o peor dominados, trozos de papel emborronados con brea por los que nadie da un real, por muy geniales que sean esas líneas de signos que, dentro de poco ni siquiera serán comprendidas.”
“Wolves eat cats for dinner. By God, I wanna be a wolf.
~Kane Tyler~”
“At my worst, I even resented Nic because an addict, at least when high, has a momentary respite from his suffering. There is no similar relief for parents or children or husbands or wives or others who love them. Nic”
“It's unfair that women are expected to stay at home when there's a fight to be won. If a woman has the strength to bear a child, she can swing a sword as well as any man.”
“What it means to be human is to bring up your children in safety, educate them, keep them healthy, teach them how to care for themselves and others, allow them to develop in their own way among adults who are sane and responsibile, who know the value of the world and not its economic potential. It means art, it means time, it means all the invisibles never counted by the GDP and the census figures. It means knowing that life has an inside as well as an outside. And I think it means love.”
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