And I'm working at trying to find a kind of language where I won't be so easily modulated by expectation.
“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing. ”
I have loved you from the very beginning.
You are priceless above all pearls to me.
All night long I dream of you.
I would gladly go with you to the end of the world.
Each parting is a grief unspeakable.
Another kiss before you go. Let loose your beautiful hair.
He was in a troubled and obscured state of mind which was incomprehensible, from the sky to that yellow tram rumbling along the clear track of the Hohenzollerdamn (along which Yasha had once gone to his death), but gradually his annoyance with himself passed and with a kind of relief–as if the responsibility for his soul belonged not to him but to someone who knew what it all meant–he felt that all this skein of random thoughts, like everything else as well– the seams and sleaziness of the spring day, the ruffle of the air, the coarse, variously intercrossing threads of confused sounds–was but the reverse side of a magnificent fabric, on the front of which there gradually formed and became alive images invisible to him.
Vladimir Nabokov, The Gift
+ The Killers live from the Royal Albert Hall - Losing Touch
“Your handwriting. the way you walk. which china pattern you choose. it’s all giving you away. everything you do shows your hand. everything is a self portrait. everything is a diary.”
“Look at me across the sea, for I go radiant, look at me across the night through which I sail, and sea and night are those eyes of yours. I have not left you when I go away.”
Pablo Neruda, The Captain’s Verses
"I think Prince should be president of the United States....It has been said that Prince presents nothing: he's dead, an image. But who do you think you are? Are you real? Such reality is false. You can only be who you’re taught and shown to be. Those who have and are showing you, most of the controllers, are shits. Despite that, how can you hate you or the image? How can you be who you're not and how can you not be? Prince accepts his falsity. We must be conscious in order to fight outside control. Make Prince, who may be conscious, the next president of the United States."
To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But, then one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer, to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love, to be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy, therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness...I hope you're getting this down.”
— Woody Allen
“Lo bueno de los años es que curan heridas, lo malo de los besos es que crean adicción.”The good thing about years is that they cure wounds, the bad thing about kisses is that they create addiction
— Joaquín Sabina
“A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader.”+ “The Art of Translation” BY VLADIMIR NABOKOV: “Mr. Nabokov is in the habit of introducing any job of this kind which he undertakes by an announcement that he is unique and incomparable,” Wilson wrote in a 1965 review of Nabokov’s translation of Eugene Onegin, “and that everybody else who has attempted it is an oaf and an ignoramus.”
Vladimir Nabokov, Lectures on Literature
“Véra has blue eyes and a birdlike profile. Her hair is completely white. They are soon to celebrate a wedding anniversary, “our golden,” Nabokov says. They met in Berlin and married there in 1925, but they might as easily have met in Leningrad. “We went to the same dancing class, didn’t we?” he asks. It has not been an unhappy marriage then? “That is the understatement of the century,” Nabokov smiles.”+ An Old Magician Named Nabokov Writes and Lives in Splendid Exile by James Salter
Love is a form of prejudice. You love what you need, you love what makes you feel good, you love what is convenient. How can you say you love one person when there are ten thousand people in the world that you would love more if you ever met them? But you’ll never meet them. All right, so we do the best we can. Granted. But we must still realize that love is just the result of a chance encounter. Most people make too much of it. On these grounds a good fuck is not to be entirely scorned. But that’s the result of a chance meeting too. You’re damned right. Drink up. We’ll have another.
bryant eslava, Ada or Ardor, Vladimir Nabokov
“All fiction is a process of imagining: whatever you write, in whatever genre or medium, your task is to make things up convincingly and interestingly and new. And when you’ve an idea - which is, after all, merely something to hold on to as you begin - what then? Well, then you write. You put one word after another until it’s finished - whatever it is.”
+ Neil Gaiman on fantasy offering refuge in times of flux
+ Gaiman's New 'Ocean' Is No Kiddie Pool
+ Neil Gaiman prepares for social media 'sabbatical'
+ Neil Gaiman's Guardian Books podcast: Weird London and the future for writers
“I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin.”
Aldus Huxley, A Brave New World
“Perhaps there are other bits of my life that would take on content, take on shadow, if only I read more and thought less about money.”
Martin Amis, Money
“Money doesn't mind if we say it's evil, it goes from strength to strength. It's a fiction, an addiction, and a tacit conspiracy.”
Martin Amis, Money
“Sometimes there is no pattern, no plan, but merely the blind cruelty of fate, which keeps no running tally of who has suffered too much.”
Text: Ralph Waldo Emerson, Photo:wearethefiasco
“I don't consider myself a pessimist. I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain. And I feel soaked to the skin.”
― Leonard Cohen
Don DeLillo, Mao II / Maurizio Di Iorio
Callie Torres, ‘The Heart of the Matter’ / worteinbildern
‘What if?’ has no power against ‘What if not?’ The not of you is unbearable. I must have you. Let them prate, those scorn-eyed anti-romantics. Love is not the oil and I am not the machine. Love is you and here I am.
Jeanette Winterson, The Poetics of Sex
“Writing is a form of personal freedom. It frees us from the mass identity we see all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals.”
My girlfriend is so pretty that I can't get over it. Every week I celebrate the alignments of her features by parading a giant photograph of her lovely face around the town centre, I've written the words 'pretty face' on the picture's border, and drawn and arrow to direct people's attention towards it. It's not bragging, because it's her that's the pretty one, not me. I'm going to parade every week for as long as she lets me be her boyfriend, and probably even longer. Nothing's going to put me off, not even the shouts of 'had her' or 'been there'.
My Muse went to Europe and when she returned she couldn't stand America. I told her that's how I feel when I come back to Texas from NYC. I told her that when we vacation in NYC together she will finally get to see the Fun version of me.
“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”
Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey