

“He looked at her, and remembered a line of poetry, a line he had long forgotten and which was nevertheless so close to his mind and heart: 'I long to sleep, to sleep, but you must dance.' He knew so well the melancholy northern mood it expressed, awkward and half-articulate and heartfelt. To sleep... To long to be able to live simply for one's feelings alone, to rest idly in sweet self-sufficient emotion, uncompelled to translate it into activity, unconstrained to dance - and to have to dance nonetheless, to have to be alert and nimble and perform the difficult, difficult and perilous sword-dance of art, and never to be able quite to forget the humiliating paradox of having to dance when one's heart is heavy with love...”
― Tonio Kröger
― Tonio Kröger

“After a first date you don't sit on a train and find head your flooded with the forgotten truth about your shared sex life forty years previously. How attracted to one another we had been; how light she felt on my lap; how exciting it always was; how, even though we weren't having "full sex," all the elements of it—the lust, the tenderness, the candour, the trust—were there anyway. And how part of me hadn't minded not "going the whole way," didn't mind the bouts of apocalyptic wanking after I'd seen her home, didn't mind sleeping in my single bed, alone except for my memories and a swiftly returning erection. This acceptance of less than others had was also due to fear, of course: fear of pregnancy, fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, fear of an overwhelming closeness I couldn't handle.”
― The Sense of an Ending
― The Sense of an Ending
“Kinuha ni Butsok ang sigarilyong nakaipit sa kanang tainga, isinubo't nagsindi. Sa paghithit-buga, wari'y nagkahugis ang isang buntong-hininga sa anyo ng puting usok-wangis ng pagwawala, katumbas ng pagtangis.”
― Ang Kapangyarihang Higit sa Ating Lahat
― Ang Kapangyarihang Higit sa Ating Lahat

“The last time he saw her before she returned to Mexico she was coming down out of the mountains riding very stately and erect out of a rainsquall building to the north and the dark clouds towering above her. She rode with her hat pulled down in the front and fastened under her chin with a drawtie and as she rode her black hair twisted and blew about her shoulders and the lightning fell silently through the black clouds behind her and she rode all seeming unaware down through the low hills while the first spits of rain blew on the wind and onto the upper pasturelands and past the pale and reedy lakes riding erect and stately until the rain caught her up and shrouded her figure away in that wild summer landscape: real horse, real rider, real land and sky and yet a dream withal.”
― All the Pretty Horses by Cormac Mc Carthy: Teacher Guide
― All the Pretty Horses by Cormac Mc Carthy: Teacher Guide

“He'd ride sometimes clear to the upper end of the laguna before the horse would even stop trembling and he spoke constantly to it in Spanish in phrases almost biblical repeating again and again the strictures of a yet untabled law. Soy comandante de las yeguas, he would say, yo y yo sólo. Sin la caridad de estas manos no tengas nada. Ni comida ni agua ni hijos. Soy yo que traigo las yeguas de las montañas, las yeguas jóvenes, las yeguas salvajes y ardientes. While inside the vaulting of the ribs between his knees the darkly meated heart pumped of who's will and the blood pulsed and the bowels shifted in their massive blue convolutions of who's will and the stout thighbones and knee and cannon and the tendons like flaxen hawsers that drew and flexed and drew and flexed at their articulations of who's will all sheathed and muffled in the flesh and the hooves that stove wells in the morning groundmist and the head turning side to side and the great slavering keyboard of his teeth and the hot globes of his eyes where the world burned.”
― All the Pretty Horses
― All the Pretty Horses
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