小猫肥皂 > 小猫肥皂's Quotes

“And now time is rushing towards them
 
where they stand side by side with arms touching, immortality on their faces,
 
night at their back.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Small, red, and upright he waited,
gripping his new bookbag tight
in one hand and touching a lucky penny inside his coat pocket with the other,
while the first snows of winter
floated down on his eyelashes and covered the branches around him and silenced
all trace of the world.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“What is an adjective? Nouns name the world. Verbs activate the names. Adjectives come from somewhere else. The word adjective (epitheton in Greek) is itself an adjective meaning 'placed on top', 'added', 'appended', 'foreign'. Adjectives seem fairly innocent additions, but look again. These small imported mechanisms are in charge of attaching everything in the world to its place in particularity. They are the latches of being.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Under the seams runs the pain.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Depression is one of the unknown modes of being.
There are no words for a world without a self, seen with impersonal clarity.
All language can register is the slow return
to oblivion we call health when imagination automatically recolors the landscape
and habit blurs perception and language
takes up its routine flourishes.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“There is no person without a world.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Not touching but joined in astonishment as two cuts lie parallel in the same flesh.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“She stumbled then and Geryon caught her other arm, it was like a handful of autumn. He felt huge and wrong. When is it polite to let go someone’s arm after you grab it?”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“The red world And corresponding red breezes
Went on Geryon did not”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Three ancient musicians hunched there— piano, guitar, accordion. None of them looked less than seventy years old, the accordion player so frail each time he swayed his shoulders around a corner of the melody Geryon feared the accordion would crush him flat. It gradually became clear that nothing could crush this man. Hardly glancing at one another the three of them played as one person, in a state of pure discovery. They tore clear and clicked and locked and unlocked, they shot their eyebrows up and down. They leaned together and wove apart, they rose and cut away and stalked one another and flew up in a cloud and sank back down on waves.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

“A paste of blue cloud untangled itself on the red sky over the harbour.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“XII. WINGS Steps off a scraped March sky and sinks Up into the blind Atlantic morning One small Red dog jumping across the beach miles below Like a freed shadow”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

“He felt Herakles' hand move on his thigh and Geryon's head went back like a poppy in a breeze --”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
― Oscar Wilde

“A room without books is like a body without a soul.”
― Marcus Tullius Cicero

“someone will remember us
I say
even in another time”
― Sappho, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

“stars around the beautiful moon
hide back their luminous form
whenever all full she shines
on the earth

silvery”
― Sappho, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

“but I am not someone who likes to wound
rather I have a quiet mind”
― Sappho, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

“their heart grew cold
they let their wings down”
― Sappho, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

“Is it true we Greeks are really dead
and only seem alive—in our fallen state
where we imagine that a dream is life?
Or are we truly alive and is life dead?”
― Palladas

“I’ll finish your fairy tale. You forgot to mention the snake. In the story the apple poisons the snake, and Eve packs her books and moves out of paradise. The End.”
― Jenny Hval, Paradise Rot

“I cross the bathroom floor and open the door. I stay standing there for a while. Then I go outside. When I walk down the street, it’s a struggle, as if I have roots in the house that are stretched long behind me, and no matter how far I go, no matter how many corners I turn on the way to Franziska’s flat-share by the beach, they are stuck. They stretch, get thinner and thinner until they are as fine as thread Slowly but surely I imagine that the brewery crumbles and follows me, threading itself on my cord as though it’s a house built from small gleaming beads. The front door reaches me first, then the floor panels from the kitchen, the enamel from the bathtub and the steel covering from the taps, glass-splinters from the chandelier and the apple cores from the compost. And Carral follows too. She crumbles in the bathtub. Tooth by tooth, nail by nail, bone by bone. And new beads grow, threading themselves on my roots. The beads appear from her mouth and eyes, her crotch, hip socket and fingertips.”
― Jenny Hval, Paradise Rot

“As in childhood we live sweeping close to the sky and now, what dawn is this.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse

“They were two superior eels
at the bottom of the tank and they recognized each other like italics.”
― Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse