"This was a manuscript of the night we couldn’t read."
Quote collection
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"This was a manuscript of the night we couldn’t read."
"We wandered in a frenzy and a dream (301)."
"Will you love me in December as you do in May?"
"don't stop to think of the words when you do stop, just stop to think of the picture better-and let your mind off yourself in this work."
"Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem."
"It no longer makes me cry and die and tear myself to see her go because everything goes away from me like that now — girls, visions, anything, just in the same way and forever and I accept lostness forever."
"I'm going to marry my novels and have little short stories for children."
"Sweet life continues in the breeze, in the golden fields."
"I realized either I was crazy or the world was crazy; and I picked on the world. And of course I was right."
"Who knows, my God, but that the universe is not one vast sea of compassion actually, the veritable holy honey, beneath all this show of personality and cruelty?"
"She brooded and bit her rich lips: my soul began its first sink into her, deep, heady, lost; like drowning in a witches' brew, Keltic, sorcerous, starlike."
"A sociable smile is nothing but a mouth full of teeth."
"If you dont [sic] say what you want, what's the sense of writing?"
"You seek identity in the midst of indistinguishab le chaos, in sprawling nameless reality."
"Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing."
"Who can leap the world's ties and sit with me among white clouds?"
"In all this welter of women I still hadn't got one for myself, not that I was trying too hard, but sometimes I felt lonely to see everybody paired off and having a good time and all I did was curl up in my sleeping bag in the rosebushes and sigh and say bah. For me it was just red wine in my mouth and a pile of firewood"
"The air was so sweet in New Orleans it seemed to come in soft bandannas; and you could smell the river and really smell the people, and mud, and molasses, and every kind of tropical exhalation, with your nose suddenly removed from the dry ices of a Northern winter."
"But they need to worry and betray time with urgencies false and otherwise, purely anxious and whiny, their souls really won't be at peace unless they can latch to an established and proven worry and having once found it they assume facial expressions to fit and go with it, which is, you see, unhappiness, and all the time it all flies by them and they know it and that too worries them no end."
"The bus roared on. I was going home in October. Everybody goes home in October."