Mary

“It is to be regretted that no mental method of daguerreotype or photography has yet been discovered by which the characters of men can be reduced to writing and put into grammatical language with an unerring precision of truthful description. How often does the novelist feel, ay, and the historian also and the biographer, that he has conceived within his mind and accurately depicted on the tablet of his brain the full character and personage of man, and that nevertheless, when he flies to pen and ink to perpetuate the portrait, his words forsake, elude, disappoint, and play the deuce with him, till at the end of a dozen pages the man described has no more resemblance to the man conceived than the signboard at the coner of the street has to the Duke of Cambridge?”
― Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers

“Was aber die Literatur bewirken könnte, ist, die sie umgebende Gesellschaft feinfühliger zu machen; sie auf geheimnisvolle Art und Weise zu sensibilisieren, die nicht mit nackten Worten zu beschreiben ist, die plötzlich sichtbar oder spürbar wird, wenn einem Autor ein Buch gelingt. Literatur könnte Menschen empfindlicher machen, gegen Roheiten etwa, von Personen oder von Regierungen begangen, gegen Unrecht; sie könnte manche Menschen von Stumpfheit heilen helfen; sie könnte daran beteiligt sein, ein System von Alarmglocken zu installieren, das schon frühzeitig Gefahren warnt, vor Faschismus, vor Menschenverachtung, vor Krieg.”
― Jurek Becker

“Ist die Literatur vielleicht ein Bär, der seine Pfote leckt, ein bleierner Schlaf nach getaner Pflicht, auf dem Diwan des Arbeitszimmers?”
― Osip Mandelstam, Das Rauschen der Zeit: Gesammelte autobiographische Prosa der 20er Jahre

“You hate America, don't you?'

That would be as silly as loving it,' I said. 'It's impossible for me to get emotional about it, because real estate doesn't interest me. It's no doubt a great flaw in my personality, but I can't think in terms of boundaries. Those imaginary lines are as unreal to me as elves and pixies. I can't believe that they mark the end or the beginning of anything of real concern to a human soul. Virtues and vices, pleasures and pains cross boundaries at will.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night