“I am not trying to say that a passport photo of himself can cure a gloomy man of a gloom for which there is no ground; for true gloom is by nature groundless; such gloom, ours at least, can be traced to no identifiable cause, and with its almost riotous gratuitousness this gloom of ours attained a pitch of intensity that would yield to nothing. If there was any way of making friends with our gloom, it was through the photos, because in these serial snapshots we found an image of ourselves which, though not exactly clear, was - and that was the essential - passive and neutralized. They gave us a kind of freedom in our dealings with ourselves; we could drink beer, torture our blood sausages, make merry and play. We bent and folded the pictures, and cut them up with little scissors we carried about with us for this precise purpose. We juxtaposed old and new pictures, made ourselves one-eyed or three-eyed, put noses on our ears, made our exposed right ears into organs of speech or silence, combined chins and foreheads. And it was not only each with his own likeness that we made these montages; Klepp borrowed features from me and I from him: thus we succeeded in making new, and we hoped, happier creatures.”
― The Tin Drum
― The Tin Drum
“You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?"
"I've a knife in my boot," she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.”
― Graceling
"I've a knife in my boot," she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.”
― Graceling
“Life," Garp wrote, "is sadly not structured like a good old-fashioned novel. Instead an end occurs when those who are meant to peter out have petered out. All that is left is memory. But even a nihilist has memory.”
― The World According to Garp
― The World According to Garp
“So many things to see, people to do.”
― Neverwhere
― Neverwhere
“You see, cuckoos are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds' nests. When the egg hatches, the baby cuckoo pushes the other baby birds out of the nest. The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places."
"Enormous?" said Jace. "Did you just call me fat?"
"It was an analogy."
"I am not fat.”
― City of Ashes
"Enormous?" said Jace. "Did you just call me fat?"
"It was an analogy."
"I am not fat.”
― City of Ashes
Loyd’s 2025 Year in Books
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