“I don't belong anywhere.
I am neither a heart, a diamond, a club, nor a spade. I am neither a King, a Jack, an Eight, nor an Ace.
As I am here - I am merely the Joker, and who that is I have had to find out for myself.
Every time I toss my head, the jingling bells remind me that I have no family.
I have no number - and no trade either.
I have gone around observing your activities from the outside.
Because of this I have also been able to see things to which you have been blind.
Every morning you have gone to work, but you have never been fully awake.
It is different for the Joker, because he was put into this world with a flaw:
he sees too deeply and too much.
Truth is a lonely thing.”
― The Solitaire Mystery
I am neither a heart, a diamond, a club, nor a spade. I am neither a King, a Jack, an Eight, nor an Ace.
As I am here - I am merely the Joker, and who that is I have had to find out for myself.
Every time I toss my head, the jingling bells remind me that I have no family.
I have no number - and no trade either.
I have gone around observing your activities from the outside.
Because of this I have also been able to see things to which you have been blind.
Every morning you have gone to work, but you have never been fully awake.
It is different for the Joker, because he was put into this world with a flaw:
he sees too deeply and too much.
Truth is a lonely thing.”
― The Solitaire Mystery
“A joker is a little fool who is different from everyone else. He's not a club, diamond, heart, or spade. He's not an eight or a nine, a king or a jack. He is an outsider. He is placed in the same pack as the other cards, but he doesn't belong there. Therefore, he can be removed without anybody missing him.”
― The Solitaire Mystery
― The Solitaire Mystery
“Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity.”
― The Story of the Lost Child
― The Story of the Lost Child
“Each of us narrates our life as it suits us.”
― Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay
― Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay
“During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.”
― The Virgin Suicides
― The Virgin Suicides
gal’s 2025 Year in Books
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