Angelo

“A room without books is like a body without a soul.”
― Marcus Tullius Cicero

“Her lips are full and red and tend to wetness and do not ask but rather demand, in a pout of liquid silk, to be kissed. I kiss them often, I admit it, it is what I do, I am a kisser, and a kiss with Lenore is, if I may indulge a bit for a moment here, not so much a kiss as it is a dislocation, a removal and rude transportation of essence from self to lip, so that it is not so much two human bodies coming together and doing the usual things with their lips as it is two sets of lips spawned together and joined in kind from the beginning of post-Scarsdale time, achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union and trailing behind and below them, as they join and become whole, two now utterly superfluous fleshly bodies, drooping outward and downward from the kiss like the tired stems of overblossomed flora, trailing shoes on the ground, husks.”
― David Foster Wallace, The Broom of the System

“Si mette a letto dalla propria parte, ma prima col piede, poi con tutto il corpo, si sposta tutto nella nicchia di tepore lasciata dalla moglie. Quando lei torna la sera, lui è alzato da un pezzo ad aspettarla. Mangiano qualcosa, con lo struggimento di avere così poco tempo per stare insieme, tanto che non riescono quasi a portarsi il cucchiaio alla bocca, dalla voglia che avrebbero "di star lì a tenersi per mano".”
― Italo Calvino, Difficult Loves

“Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
― Charles Bukowski