Basil Levy

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The Bell Jar
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The Myth of Sisyphus
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Bluebeard
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Jun 03, 2025 08:10AM

 
Book cover for Bluebeard
If they haunt this place, they do it with such Episcopalian good manners that no one has so far noticed them.
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Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
“I asked him as delicately as I could if making love to a woman so sophisticated in sexual techniques was in any way unusually burdensome. He replied, rolling his eyes at the ceiling, that I had certainly hit the nail on the head.”
Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Bluebeard

Osamu Dazai
“I thought, “I want to die. I want to die more than ever before. There’s no chance now of a recovery. No matter what sort of thing I do, no matter what I do, it’s sure to be a failure, just a final coating applied to my shame. That dream of going on bicycles to see a waterfall framed in summer leaves—it was not for the likes of me. All that can happen now is that one foul, humiliating sin will be piled on another, and my sufferings will become only the more acute. I want to die. I must die. Living itself is the source of sin.”
Osamu Dazai, No Longer Human

J.D. Salinger
“What I really felt like, though, was committing suicide. I felt like jumping out the window. I probably would’ve, too, if I’d been sure somebody’d cover me up as soon as I landed. I didn’t want a bunch of stupid rubbernecks looking at me when I was all gory.”
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.
“If they haunt this place, they do it with such Episcopalian good manners that no one has so far noticed them.”
Kurt Vonnegut Jr., Bluebeard

J.D. Salinger
“I kept walking and walking up Fifth Avenue, without any tie on or anything. Then all of a sudden, something very spooky started happening. Every time I came to the end of a block and stepped off the goddam curb, I had this feeling that I’d never get to the other side of the street. I thought I’d just go down, down, down, and nobody’d ever see me again. Boy, did it scare me. You can’t imagine. I started sweating like a bastard – my whole shirt and underwear and everything. Then I started doing something else. Every time I’d get to the end of a block I’d make believe I was talking to my brother Allie. I’d say to him, “Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Allie, don’t let me disappear. Please, Allie.” And then when I’d reach the other side of the street without disappearing, I’d thank him. Then it would start all over again as soon as I got to the next corner. But I kept going and all. I was sort of afraid to stop, I think – I don’t remember, to tell you the truth. I know I didn’t stop till I was way up in the Sixties, past the zoo and all. Then I sat down on this bench. I could hardly get my breath, and I was still sweating like a bastard. I sat there, I guess, for about an hour.”
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

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