That’s our damnation,” he whispered. “Our moral improvement has reached its finish, and our intellect grows by leaps and bounds.
If the mind can find no meaning, then the senses give it. Live for this, wretched being that you are.
I dream of miracles but I cannot imagine them. I pray for mercy, yet I cannot envision how it would come about.
We will eat the figs of our own tree, and the grapes of our own garden.
Blood Genesis In the beginning were the spirits. They were invisible beings, heard and seen only by the most powerful sorcerers or witches.
You cannot conceive of the magnitude of this mystery.” He spoke in a confidential whisper. “You cannot conceive of this complexity.” He was saying these words as if he’d just discovered them. He wept. I swear it. He wept.
We can have ethics and we can have honor and we can have loyalty,” he insisted, “and every other key virtue we learned as humans.” He was roaring at me under his breath, as the British so often do it, with a veneer of silvery politeness.
If you don’t see something that you like to read, but cannot find it. Write it and make it exist.
Dear God, this is love. This is desire. And all my past amours have been but the shadow of this. And it seemed in a murmuring pulse of thought he gave me to know that I had been very foolish to think it would not be so. Who can love us, you and I, as we can love each other, he whispered and it seemed his lips actually moved.
The awareness of happiness comes after, in memory, with the belated appreciation of the moment.
Most strange and wondrous, I thought, that the power of the mind was greater than the power of the hands.
Sometimes hate and love serve exactly the same purpose.
I wanted to go. It seemed in the depths of my bruised soul I wanted nothing more. But something again held me.
I had turned to leave him when he took hold of me. His teeth went into the artery before I could think what was happening, and his arms went tight around my chest.
Good was above all kind; it was to be gentle. It was to waste nothing. It was to paint, to read, to study, to listen.
I clasped his face in both hands as I kissed him. “You don’t know how I need you, how I love you, how I always have,” I whispered in his ear. Maybe he would find me more charming on account of what’s befallen me – the unexpected horror I’ve seen, the inevitable pain I’ve endured. It’s an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater luster to our colours, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn’t destroy us, if it doesn’t burn away the optimism and the spirit.
That one, there,” Tonio murmured, but the weight of his suspicion was breaking him, sickening him. Send death for me, like that, some paid assassin? It seemed he’d already been dealt the blow and this was not life any longer, rather some nightmare place where that sentinel stood on the bridge and these strangers urged him to a meaningless portal.
It seemed at momemts, When I sat alone in the dark stateroom, that the sky had come down to meet the sea and some great secert was to be revealed.
You, know, the only thing I can be is a writer. I’m absolutely unprepared for anything else. When you’ve lived the kind of life I have, you are good for nothing. Only writing can save you.
His hands would soon be trembling and he would have indigestion, but he didn’t care. When you love coffee you abandon everything to that love.