Toran

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Joseph Goebbels
“I'm so despondent about everything. Everything I try goes totally wrong. There's no escape from this hole here. I feel drained. So far, I still haven't found a real purpose in life. Sometimes, I'm afraid to get out of bed in the morning. There's nothing to get up for.”
Joseph Goebbels

Renata Adler
“Is it always the same story, then? Somebody loves and somebody doesn't, or loves less, or loves someone else. Or someone is a good soul and someone a villain. And there are just these episodes, anecdotes, places, pauses, hailings of cabs, overcomings of obstacles, or instances of being overcome by them, illnesses, accidents, recoveries, wars, desires, welcomings, rebuffs, baskings (rare, not so long), pinings (more frequent, perhaps, and longer), actions, failures to act, hesitations, proliferations, endings of the line, until there is death. Well, no. I have a wonderful, fond memory, about love and trust and books.”
Renata Adler, Pitch Dark

Jacques Barzun
“I quite understand how we are driven to lead statistical lives, but I repeat that it is the duty of art to make us imagine the particular; to make us understand that the rights of one human being are not a fraction of the rights of more than one, and at the same time that in any situation of collective evil, the suffering is felt by no more than one person; only one feels the bitter agony of injustice, only one dies”
Jacques Barzun, The Use and Abuse of Art

Clarice Lispector
“What I want is to live of that initial and primordial something that was what made some things reach the point of aspiring to be human.”
Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H.

Günter Grass
“What more can I say: born beneath light bulbs, interrupted my growth at the age of three, was given a drum, sangshattered glass, smelled vanilla, coughed in churches, stuffed Luzie with food, watched ants as they crawled, decided to grow, buried the drum, moved to the West, lost what was East, learned to carve stone and posed as a model, went back to my drum and inspected concrete, made money and cared for the finger, gave the finger away and fled as I laughed, ascended, arrested, convicted, confined, now soon to be freed, and today is my birthday, I’m thirty years old, and still as afraid of the Black Cook as ever—Amen.”
Günter Grass, The Tin Drum

1145736 neo-/lit/ — 392 members — last activity Jan 23, 2025 09:59AM
The premier /lit/erature-related assembly of minds.
97302 The BURIED Book Club — 940 members — last activity Oct 09, 2025 06:06PM
TODAY BOOKS ARE NOT BURNED. THEY ARE BURIED. WE SHALL UNEARTH THEM.
year in books
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2,008 books | 4,018 friends

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2,050 books | 11 friends

YU-GI-M...
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