Cristina Daftwell

“Ils se connurent. Il la connut et se connut lui-même parce que, réellement, il n'avait jusque là rien su de lui. Elle le connut et se connut elle-même parce que, tout en sachant tout ce qu'elle était, elle ne l'avait jamais aussi bien senti.”
― Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees

“Language is my whore, my mistress, my wife, my pen-friend, my check-out girl. Language is a complimentary moist lemon-scented cleansing square or handy freshen-up wipette. Language is the breath of God, the dew on a fresh apple, it's the soft rain of dust that falls into a shaft of morning sun when you pull from an old bookshelf a forgotten volume of erotic diaries; language is the faint scent of urine on a pair of boxer shorts, it's a half-remembered childhood birthday party, a creak on the stair, a spluttering match held to a frosted pane, the warm wet, trusting touch of a leaking nappy, the hulk of a charred Panzer, the underside of a granite boulder, the first downy growth on the upper lip of a Mediterranean girl, cobwebs long since overrun by an old Wellington boot.”
― Stephen Fry

“The daily press is the evil principle of the modern world, and time will only serve to disclose this fact with greater and greater clearness. The capacity of the newspaper for degeneration is sophistically without limit, since it can always sink lower and lower in its choice of readers. At last it will stir up all those dregs of humanity which no state or government can control.”
― Søren Kierkegaard

“I would never die for my beliefs because I might be wrong.”
― Bertrand Russell