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Louis Armand

Who’s there? A piece of graffiti in spiral lamplightsays “failure makes possible.” Footsteps in reverberatingstutter: this unended search to be satisfied —hour-by-hour circling the périphérique. A sameness of thingsin the same places, the grey tide, the discomfort of sleep. — Louis Armand, from “Léon Paul Fargue,” Blackbox Manifold, Issue 11, (Winter 2013)

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Bohumil Hrabal

I can be by myself because I’m never lonely; I’m simply alone, living in my heavily populated solitude, a harum-scarum of infinity and eternity, and Infinity and Eternity seem to take a liking to the likes of me. ― Bohumil Hrabal, Too Loud a Solitude. (Abacus May 27, 1993) Originally published 1976.

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Milan Kundera,

That is the secret of poetry. We burn in the woman we adore, we burn in the thought we espouse, we burn in the landscape that moves us. — Milan Kundera, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting. (Harper Perennial Modern Classics; Reprint edition (April 7, 1999)

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