“America is a lonely crock of shit...”
“I am writing this book because we're all going to die - In the loneliness of my own life, my father dead, my brother dead, my mother faraway, my sister and my wife far away, nothing here but my own tragic hands that once were guarded by a world, a sweet attention, that now are left to guide and disappear their own way into the common dark of all our deaths, sleeping in me raw bed, alone and stupid: with just this one pride and consolation: my broke heart in the general despair and opened up inwards to the Lord, I made a supplication in this dream”
“I can’t think of anybody…who knows the sum and substance of what I know and feel and cry about in my secret self all the time when I don’t feel strong, the sorrows of time and personality, and can therefore on all levels make it all the way with me”
“...the great black bird broods outside my window in the high dark night waiting to enfold me when I leave the house tomorrow only I'm going to dodge it successfully by sheer animalism and ability and even exhilaration, so goodnight”
“Ah the mad hearts of all of us.”
“…the loneliness…the “inexpressibly delicious" sensation of this memory - for as memories are older they’re like wine rarer, till if you find a real old memory, one of infancy, not an established often tasted one but a brand new one, it would taste better than the Napoleon brandy Stendhal himself must have stared at…”
“I know the secrets; I dig Joyce and Proust above Melville and Celine.”
“Out on the road outside Cheyenne Wells a great argument developed between Pomeray and Old Bull as to whether they were going to buy a little whiskey or lot of wine, one being a wino, the other an alcoholic. Not having eaten for a long time, feverish, they leaped out of the car and started making brawling gestures at each other which were supposed to represent a fistfight between two men...and the next moment they were embracing each other, old Pomeray tearfully, Old Bull raising his eyes with lonely sarcasm at the huge and indefatigable heavens above Colorado...because everybody was in a hole during the Depression, and felt it”
“I'm a fool, the new day rises on the world and on my foolish life: I'm a fool, I loved the blue dawns over racetracks and made a bet Ioway was sweet like its name, my heart went out to lonely sounds in the misty springtime night of wild sweet America in her powers, the wetness on the wire fence bugled me to belief, I stood on sandpiles with an open soul, I not only accept loss forever, I am made of loss - I am made of Cody, too -”
“What?” Ryder huffed. “Come on that was funny! That was comic gold right there.”
She shrugged, enjoying teasing him. “It was OK. Kind of elementary.”
“Elementary? It’s an effing joke.”
“Whatever.”
His groan could probably be heard for five miles. “Aw this is going to be a looong drive home.”
“Know why transparency's a beautiful thing? Transparency means no shame.”
“Darlin', said Leslie, 'everybody on earth stays alive day to day solely because everyone they meet decides, every single day, not to kill them...”
“Belle had a feeling that someone had hurt this man very badly in the past. That didn't, however, mean that she would allow him to abuse her in turn.”
“«Non vedi, figliolo» esclamò, «quel pazzo furioso che sta strappando a morsi il naso dell’avversario, e quell’altro che schiaccia sotto un masso enorme la testa di una donna?» «Vedo», replicò Bulloch. «Stanno creando il diritto; fondano la proprietà; stabiliscono i princìpi della civiltà, le basi della società e le assise dello Stato.» «In che modo?» domandò il vegliardo. «Delimitando il proprio campo. Tale è l’origine di ogni sistema di disciplina. I vostri pinguini, maestro, stanno compiendo la più augusta delle funzioni: la loro opera sarà celebrata nei secoli dai legislatori, protetta e confermata dai magistrati.»”
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