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Jordan
https://www.goodreads.com/jordanberman
“Logic may indeed be unshakeable, but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live. Where was the judge he had never seen? Where was the High Court he had never reached? He raised his hands and spread out all his fingers. But the hands of one of the men closed round his throat, just as the other drove the knife deep into his heart and turned it twice.”
― The Trial
― The Trial
“People who have an official, professional relation to other men's sufferings - for instance, judges, police officers, doctors - in course of time, through habit, grow so callous that they cannot, even if they wish it, take any but a formal attitude to their clients; in this respect they are not different from the peasant who slaughters sheep and calves in the back-yard, and does not notice the blood.”
― Ward No. 6 and Other Stories
― Ward No. 6 and Other Stories
“In my yellow room,
Sunflowers with purple eyes stands out on a yellow background.
They bath their stems in a yellow pot, on a yellow table.
In a corner of the painting, the signature of the painter: Vincent.
And the yellow sun that passes through the yellow curtains of my room floods all this fluorescence with gold.
And in the morning upon awakening, from my bed,
I imagin that all this smells very good.
Oh yes! He loved yellow, this good Vincent, this painter from holland.
Those glimmers of sunlight rekindled his soul
That abhorred the fog, that needed the warmth.
When two of us were together in arles, both of us mad and at constant war over the beauty of color, me, i loved the color red,
Where to find a perfect vermilion?
He traced with his most yellow brush on the wall,
Suddenly turned violet.
Je suis saint esprit
Je suis sain d'espri.
Paul gauguin, 1894.”
―
Sunflowers with purple eyes stands out on a yellow background.
They bath their stems in a yellow pot, on a yellow table.
In a corner of the painting, the signature of the painter: Vincent.
And the yellow sun that passes through the yellow curtains of my room floods all this fluorescence with gold.
And in the morning upon awakening, from my bed,
I imagin that all this smells very good.
Oh yes! He loved yellow, this good Vincent, this painter from holland.
Those glimmers of sunlight rekindled his soul
That abhorred the fog, that needed the warmth.
When two of us were together in arles, both of us mad and at constant war over the beauty of color, me, i loved the color red,
Where to find a perfect vermilion?
He traced with his most yellow brush on the wall,
Suddenly turned violet.
Je suis saint esprit
Je suis sain d'espri.
Paul gauguin, 1894.”
―
“It's the shadow on every kiss and every dollar, that it might not be there tomorrow.”
― How to Write an Autobiographical Novel
― How to Write an Autobiographical Novel
“In contrast with her generation, which had spent most of its time online learning to code so that it could add crude butterfly animations to the backgrounds of its weblogs, the generation immediately following had spent most of its time online making incredibly bigoted jokes in order to laugh at the idiots who were stupid enough to think they meant it. Except after a while they did mean it, and then somehow at the end of it they were Nazis. Was this always how it happened?”
― No One Is Talking About This
― No One Is Talking About This
Jordan’s 2025 Year in Books
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