“The worst is missing them, you know? And knowing they won’t be back again. Just knowing that. Sometimes you forget and it’s as though they’re on vacation or something and you think, gee, I wish they’d call. You miss them. You forget they’re really gone. You forget the past six months even happened. Isn’t that weird? Isn’t that crazy? Then you catch yourself . . . and it’s real again.”
― The Girl Next Door
― The Girl Next Door
“J'aimais les peintures idiotes, dessus de portes, décors, toiles de saltimbanques, enseignes, enluminures populaires ; la littérature démodée, latin d'église, livres érotiques sans orthographe, romans de nos aïeules, contes de fées, petits livres de l'enfance, opéras vieux, refrains niais, rythmes naïfs.”
― Une saison en enfer suivi de Illuminations et autres textes
― Une saison en enfer suivi de Illuminations et autres textes
“كانت خلاصةُ أحلامِهِ أن يصيدَ القَمَرْ
ويودعَهُ قفصًا من ندًى وشذًى وزَهَرْ
وكان يقضِّي المساءَ يحوك الشباكَ ويَحْلُمْ
يوسّدُهُ عُشُبٌ باردٌ عند نبع مغمغِمْ
ويسْهَرُ يرمُقُ وادي المساء ووجْهَ القَمَرْ
وقد عكستْهُ مياهُ غديرٍ بَرُودٍ عَطِرْ
شجرة القمر)”
―
ويودعَهُ قفصًا من ندًى وشذًى وزَهَرْ
وكان يقضِّي المساءَ يحوك الشباكَ ويَحْلُمْ
يوسّدُهُ عُشُبٌ باردٌ عند نبع مغمغِمْ
ويسْهَرُ يرمُقُ وادي المساء ووجْهَ القَمَرْ
وقد عكستْهُ مياهُ غديرٍ بَرُودٍ عَطِرْ
شجرة القمر)”
―
“In the University library he wandered through the stacks, among the thousands of books, inhaling the musty odor of leather, cloth, and drying page as if it were an exotic incense.”
― Stoner
― Stoner
“There were days when she was very happy without knowing why. She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warmth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in. And she found it good to dream and to be alone and unmolested.
There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why—when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation.”
― The Awakening
There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why—when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation.”
― The Awakening
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