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With the Old Bree...
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Clarice Lispector
“I don't want peace with an exclamation mark. I only want this minimum: peace. Just so, very, very slowly... like this... almost asleep... that's right... that's right... it's almost coming... Don't frighten me, I am terribly frightened.”
― Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

Daniel Kraus
“What does it matter which nations win which wars? Future wars will reverse all gains. God is on no one’s side,”
― Daniel Kraus, Angel Down

Vladimir Sorokin
“We must not take anyone else's karma upon ourselves, not even in small matters," the brigadier continued. "Especially now in our renewed, postwar world. Take a look at the Eurasian continent: after the collapse of the ideological, geopolitical, and technological utopias, it was finally plunged back into the blessed and enlightened Middle Ages. The world returned to humans scale. Nations found themselves. Man ceased to be the sum of the technology around him. Mass production is living out its final years. There aren't two identical nails beaten into humanity's head. Man regained a sense of the things, started to eat healthy grub and ride horses again. Genetic engineering helps man to feel his true size. Man has regained his faith in the transcendental. Regained his sense of time. We're not rushing anywhere anymore. Most importantly-we understand that there can be no technological heaven on earth. And, in broader terms, no heaven at all. Earth has been given to us as an island of overcoming. Everyone chooses what to overcome and how to overcome it. And they make that choice themselves!”
― Vladimir Sorokin, Telluria

“[I]t has been one long desolation, one long hungry season since the other people came and took the land and the language and the very lives of the people. A hungry season, even for It.”
― Phoenix Boudreau, Never Whistle at Night: An Indigenous Dark Fiction Anthology

Benjamín Labatut
“For years, he devoted the whole of his energy, twelve hours a day, seven days a week, to mathematics. He did not read newspapers, watch television or go to the cinema. He liked ugly women, squalid apartments, dilapidated rooms. He worked cloistered in a cold office with flaking paint falling from the walls, his back turned to the only window, with pen and paper on his desk and only four objects as decoration: his mother’s death mask, a small wire sculpture of a goat, a jar of Spanish olives, and a charcoal portrait of his father, drawn in Le Vernet concentration camp.”
― Benjamín Labatut, When We Cease to Understand the World

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