|
128bdb3
|
If it had been an outright junkyard, probably he could have stuck things out, made a career: the violence that had caused each wreck being infrequent enough, far enough away from him, to be miraculous, as each death, up till the moment of our own, is miraculous.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
4b4dba9
|
wanted to believe--like a child hearing, in perfect safety, a tale of horror--that the unconscious would be like any other room, once the light was let in. That the dark shapes would resolve only into toy horses and Biedermeyer furniture. That therapy could tame it after all, bring it into society with no fear of its someday reverting. I wanted to believe, despite everything my life had been.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
cc096c7
|
Aitisi nai poroja," replied Veikko, a pleasantry long grown routine, meaning, "Your mother fucks reindeer."
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
5aa0afc
|
Bigfoot didn't answer but there were times Doc could hear his silences, and this one was saying Too Much You Can't Know About So Fuck Off.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
22393c5
|
Like many named places in California it was less an identifiable city than a grouping of concepts--census tracts, special purpose bond-issue districts, shopping nuclei, all overlaid with access roads to its own freeway.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
cfa4763
|
One mild and ordinary work-morning in Chicago, Lew happened to find himself on a public conveyance, head and eyes inclined nowhere in particular, when he entered, all too briefly, a condition he had no memory of having sought, which he later came to think of as grace. Despite the sorry history of rapid transit in this city, the corporate neglect and high likelihood of collision, injury, and death, the weekday-morning overture blared along a..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
1e7ab51
|
The Northern Lights which had drawn them from their childhood beds in lower latitudes on so many deep winter nights, while summoning in their parents obscure feelings of dread, could now be viewed up here at any time from within, at altitude, in heavenwide pulses of color, dense sheets and billows and colonnades of light and current, in transfiguration unceasing. In small, remote corners of the planet nobody was paying much attention to, be..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
e464687
|
Anyone who wonders what Imps look like in their Middle Years would be perhaps more than satisfied with Shelby's Phiz at the moment,-- Malice undiminish'd, with a Daily Schedule that leaves him too little time to express it.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
d387cf3
|
I have look'd on Worlds far distant, their Beauty how pitiless.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
574569c
|
Leunagasolin, such as, oh, the Moss Creature here, brightest
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
751f6a7
|
Doubt is the essence of Christ.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
82ab5be
|
SHE CAME ALONG THE ALLEY AND UP THE BACK STEPS THE WAY she always used to. Doc hadn't seen her for over a year. Nobody had. Back then it was always sandals, bottom half of a flower-print bikini, faded Country Joe & the Fish T-shirt. Tonight she was all in flatland gear, hair a lot shorter than he remembered,
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
7179ff6
|
She is prey to interior winds he never felt.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
d03dde8
|
THE SUN CAME UP a baleful smear in the sky, not quite shapeless, in fact able to assume the appearance of a device immediately recognizable yet unnamable, so widely familiar that the inability to name it passed from simple frustration to a felt dread, whose intricacy deepened almost moment to moment . . . its name a word of power, not to be spoken aloud, not even to be remembered in silence. All around lay ambushes of the bad ice, latent pr..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
1d9bf98
|
Nothing voiced--all hisses, a serpent, vengeful, relentless," they raved. Others attested to languages long dead to the world, though of course known to their reporters. "The man-shaped light shall not deliver you," it allegedly declared, and, "Flames were always your destiny, my children." Its children-- Is it worth anyone's while now to journey out those starfish corridors where they suffer, each behind his door of oak and iron, the penan..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
fd90c8e
|
Nothing voiced--all hisses, a serpent, vengeful, relentless," they raved. Others attested to languages long dead to the world, though of course known to their reporters. "The man-shaped light shall not deliver you," it allegedly declared, and, "Flames were always your destiny, my children." Its children-- Is it worth anyone's while now to journey out those starfish corridors where they suffer, each behind his door of oak and iron, the penan..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
305a9c3
|
young man. Meet me at my place. Gluck." So"
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
aa1b8d3
|
So the city became the material expression of a particular loss of innocence--not sexual or political innocence but somehow a shared dream of what a city might at its best prove to be--its inhabitants became, and have remained, an embittered and amnesiac race, wounded but unable to connect through memory to the moment of the injury, unable to summon the face of their violator. Out of that night and day of unconditional wrath, folks would've..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
77d4aa7
|
Astronomy is as soil'd at the hands of the Pelhamites as ev'ry other Business in this Kingdom,-- and we ever at the mercy of Place-jobbery, as much as any Nincompoop at Court.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
b943b10
|
Latitudes and Departures
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
dfdcb96
|
Roger's heart grows erect, and comes. That's really how it feels. Up sharply to skin level in a V around his centerline, washing over his nipples... it is love, it is amazing.
|
|
sex
pynchon
orgasm
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
428da42
|
A todo el mundo se le dice que escriba acerca de lo que conoce. El problema para muchos de nosotros es que en la juventud creemos saberlo todo o, por decirlo de un modo mas util, con frecuencia desconocemos el alcance y la estructura de nuestra ignorancia, la cual no es solo un espacio en blanco en el mapa mental de una persona, sino que tiene contornos y coherencia y, por lo que se, tambien tiene sus normas"."
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
35c3d36
|
Proverbs for Paranoids, 4: You hide, they seek.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
d7b260b
|
You're so sick, Oedipa, she told herself, or the room, which knew.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
315702b
|
staff who claim not to know a word of English beyond "awesome" and "sucks," which for a vast range of human endeavor, actually, is more than enough . . ."
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
2484e95
|
dark and be lost forever, some to edge into the fitful light of his attention whether he wanted to see them or not. Shasta had nailed it. Forget who--what was he working for anymore?
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
4857e82
|
Proverbs for Paranoids, 2: The innocence of the creatures is in inverse proportion to the immorality of the Master.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
f4e9792
|
PAVLOVIA (BEGUINE) It was spring in Pavlovia-a-a, I was lost, in a maze . . . Lysol breezes perfumed the air, I'd been searching for days. I found you, in a cul-de-sac, As bewildered as I-- We touched noses, and suddenly My heart learned how to fly! So, together, we found our way, Shared a pellet, or two . . . Like an evening in some cafe, Wanting nothing, but you . . . Autumn's come, to Pavlovia-a-a, Once again, I'm alone-- Finding sor..
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
920d5d4
|
Reader, she bit him.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
e3c5f3f
|
C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre (attributed to a French observer during the Charge of the Light
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
b9a5117
|
What, a Re-Peat!
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
944dbbe
|
Why should things be easy to understand?
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
d9d53b1
|
Let me be unambiguous. I prefer not to be photographed.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
7127a54
|
For a boy not getting any he had more woman problems than anybody he knew.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
38a954b
|
Run away with me," said Roseman when the coffee came. "Where?" she asked. That shut him up.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
eb14228
|
This is America, you live in it, you let it happen. Let it unfurl.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
1b46475
|
Death glided by, shadowless, among the empties on the grass.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
1d19d51
|
They are in love. Fuck the war.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
fae2a36
|
Proverbs for Paranoids:
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
8ad950f
|
There was no difference between the behavior of a god and the operations of pure chance.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
f481c5c
|
The man's thirst for guilt was insatiable as the desert's for water.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
fb89084
|
It can get pretty fascist in here...
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
867c59c
|
Each will have his personal Rocket.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |
|
eaab4a7
|
Paranoia's the garlic in life's kitchen, right, you can never have too much.
|
|
|
Thomas Pynchon |