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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 2131b68 | Because it was starting to get dark, and because the streets were crowded, I bumped into a googolplex people. Who were they? Where were they going? What were they looking for? I wanted to hear their heartbeats, and I wanted them to hear mine. | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| 66bb733 | I hit the spacebar again and again and again. My life story was spaces. | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| 17b5ea2 | She saw through the shell of me into the center of me | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| f2f1d37 | We aren't exactly emptying the oceans; it's more like clear-cutting a forest with thousands of species to create massive fields with one type of soybean. | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| 8e3c25d | There is no dead matter," he taught us, "lifelessness is only a disguise" his voice sank pressed against the wall, "We have lived for too long. We wish. We wish; we want, we want we want We are not," he said, "long-term beings. not heroes of romances in many volumes. for one gesture, for one word alone, we shall make the effort. We openly admit: our creations will be temporary." | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| 374ac27 | Flea-Market vendors are frozen mid-haggle. Middle-aged women are frozen in the middle of their lives. The gavels of frozen judges are frozen between guilt and innocence. On the ground are the crystals of the frozen first breaths of babies, and those of the last gasps of the dying. | sixth-borough | Jonathan Safran Foer | |
| 6f181ce | We are breeding creatures incapable of surviving in any place other than the most artificial settings. We have focused the awesome power of modern genetic knowledge to bring into being animals that suffer more. | suffering humanism | Jonathan Safran Foer | |
| 03b15f7 | Was his death an essential stage in the continuation of his life? | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| 98a7e18 | God loves the plagiarist. And so it is written, 'God created humankind in His image, in the image of God He created them." God is the original plagiarizer. With a lack of reasonable sources from which to filch - man created in the image of what? the animals? - the creation of man was an act of reflexive plagiarizing; God looted the mirror. When we plagiarize, we are likewise creating in the image and participating in the completion of Creat.. | writing jonathan-safran-foer plagiarism | Jonathan Safran Foer | |
| 319be5c | I believed him. I was not stupid. I was his wife. | Jonathan Safran Foer | ||
| e36c0bd | The lid, however, wouldn't shut. The mind held back the whole sky. | mind lid sky | Denis Johnson | |
| 05f2c19 | Talk into here. Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine. | Denis Johnson | ||
| d99cb59 | It was one of the moments you stay in, to hell with all the troubles of before and after. The sky is blue and the dead are coming back. Later in the afternoon, with sad resignation, the county fair bares its breasts. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 92d9045 | Living up the Moyea with plenty of small chores to distract him, he forgot he was a sad man. When the hymns began, he remembered. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 51b6dea | Grainier still went to services some rare times, when a trip to town coincided. People spoke nicely to him there, people recognized him from the days when he'd attended almost regularly with Gladys, but he generally regretted going. He very often wept in church. Living up the Moyea with plenty of small chores to distract him, he forgot he was a sad man. When the hymns began, he remembered. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 6d4c3a9 | Though simple and obvious as an act of art, the drawing portrayed the silly, helpless tendency of fundamental things to get way off course and turn into nonsense, illustrated the church's grotesque pearling around its traditional heart, explained the pernicious extrapolating rules and observances of governments - implicated all of us in a gradual apostasy from every perfect thing we find or make. | Denis Johnson | ||
| f0647e9 | All night the dreamer travels in this region and doesn't realize he's asleep. The differences between the logic of that world and the logic of this waking one are vast. But they feel the same. And isn't that how we recognize logic, by the way it feels? | Denis Johnson | ||
| cf8db38 | It seemed the two held forth on parallel tracks, confident of meeting somewhere in infinity. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 9fc116b | Write naked. That means to write what you would never say. | Denis Johnson | ||
| c8bb9f5 | When we stopped in front of it and turned off the engine, we heard music coming from inside--jazz. It sounded sophisticated and lonely. We | Denis Johnson | ||
| a5f0d3b | First I put my lips to her upper lip, then to the bottom of her pout, and then I kissed her fully, my mouth on her open mouth, and we met inside. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 8997ad3 | She was a woman, a traitor, and a killer. Males and females wanted her. But I was the only one who ever could have loved her. | love jesus-son | Denis Johnson | |
| a89c7b8 | The man hanging out of the wrecked car was still alive as I passed, and I stopped, grown a little more used to the idea now of how really badly broken he was, and made sure there was nothing I could do. He was snoring loudly and rudely. His blood bubbled out of his mouth with every breath. He wouldn't be taking many more. I knew that, but he didn't, and therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person's life on this earth. I don't me.. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 0869bbc | If he died now, Grainier probably wouldn't know it until they came into the light of the gas lamps either side of the doctor's house. After they'd moved along for nearly an hour without conversation, listening only to the creaking wagon and the sound of the nearby river and the clop of the mares, it grew dark. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 7071e2b | It felt like the moment before the Savior comes. And the Savior did come, but we had to wait a long time. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 52f9e5f | But come to California. Come to these canyons if you want to be driven by sacredness into the air. If you dream of the true, clear silences, if you want those silences to sing - come to California. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 9b90437 | I note that I've lived longer in the past now, than I can expect to live in the future. I have more to remember than I have to look forward to. Memory fades, not much of the past stays, and I wouldn't mind forgetting more of it. | Denis Johnson | ||
| b1f9833 | Meaning can't change from person to person, and still be true | Denis Johnson | ||
| d8e1714 | THE PEOPLE'S THIRST FOR FREEDOM HAS DRIVEN US TO DRINK BAD WATER. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 1a5d904 | Her midriff bare, like the denizen...of some pampering seraglio. | Denis Johnson | ||
| cd4bdeb | My father is dead!" As soon as he'd said it, Fiskadoro saw he'd made it true again--again for the first time. Did it just go around and around? He began to see that his sorrow wasn't simple. It wasn't one thing, but a thousand things carrying him away to the Ocean: the work of a person's life was to drink it." | Denis Johnson | ||
| c00dd67 | It's a beautiful day" - by which we meant that the weather was good. But we never say, "The weather's good," "The weather's pleasant." We say, "It's a beautiful day," "What a beautiful day." | expressions | Denis Johnson | |
| c8214d0 | He'd come to war to see abstractions become realities. Instead he'd seen the reverse. Everything was abstract now. | Denis Johnson | ||
| 9e8210c | You've never felt good. Your suffering protects you. Pain is the ransom you have gladly paid not to be free. | Denis Johnson | ||
| df31007 | Worth remembering the world was never how she anxiously dreamed it. | Ian McEwan | ||
| 7579a27 | I said I didn't like tricks, I liked life as I knew it recreated on the page. He said it wasn't possible to recreate life on the page without tricks. | Ian McEwan | ||
| 74f9d73 | A picture of my existence... would show a useless wooden stake covered in snow... stuck loosely at a slant in the ground in a ploughed field on the edge of a vast open plain on a dark winter night. | Franz Kafka | ||
| b34cd61 | As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was laying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his domelike brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the .. | Franz Kafka | ||
| fe1c803 | He slid back again into his earlier position. "This getting up early," he thought, "makes a man quite idiotic. A man must have his sleep. Other travelling salesmen live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the inn during the course of the morning to write up the necessary orders, these gentlemen are just sitting down to breakfast. If I were to try that with my boss, I'd be thrown out on the spot. Still, who knows whether that.. | Franz Kafka | ||
| 0a86090 | I read the letter once, put it aside, and read it again; I pick up a file but am really only reading your letter; I am with the typist, to whom I am supposed to dictate, and again your letter slowly slides through my fingers and I have begun to draw it out of my pocket when people ask me something and I know perfectly well I should not be thinking of your letter now, yet that thought is all that occurs to me--but after all that I am as hung.. | Franz Kafka | ||
| 86a88a8 | He looked sadly down at the street, as though it were his own bottomless sadness. | Franz Kafka | ||
| 6510ef1 | lst 'qw~ `l~ Hml ldny fwq ktfy, wl 'n 'Html Ht~ thql m`Tfy fwqhm | Franz Kafka | ||
| a1f369a | It puzzled K., at least it puzzled him looking at it from the policemen's point of view, that they had made him go into the room and left him alone there, where he had ten different ways of killing himself. At the same time, though, he asked himself, this time looking at it from his own point of view, what reason he could have to do so. Because those two were sitting there in the next room and had taken his breakfast, perhaps? | suicide police | Franz Kafka | |
| 3bdc5ee | It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the cafe, your figure, your dress, that I still see. | love figure walked-away face remember longing | Franz Kafka |