You won’t understand anything about the imagination until you realise that it’s not about making things up, it’s about perception. — Philip Pullman, The Book of Dust: Volume Two; The Secret. (RHCP Digital Commonwealth’ October 3rd 2019)
He who learns must suffer And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget Falls drop by drop upon the heart, And in our own despite, against our will, Comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. ― Aeschylus, The Orestei. 458 BCE
…you’re either gonna spend your life fucking pussy, or taking it to church. ― Dave Matthes, Bar Nights. (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, June 6, 2015)
For to know nothing is nothing, not to want to know anything likewise, but to be beyond knowing anything, to know you are beyond knowing anything, that is when peace enters in, to the soul of the incurious seeker. ― Samuel Beckett, Molloy. (Grove Press, January 12, 1994) Originally published 1951.
Weary with my weariness, white last moon, sole regret, not even. To be dead, before her, on her, with her, and turn, dead on dead, about poor mankind, and never have to die anymore, from among the living. Not even, not even that. My moon was here below, far below, the little I was able… Continue reading Samuel Becket
I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that… Continue reading Samuel Beckett
The story is not in the words; it’s in the struggle. — Paul Auster, The New York Trilogy. (Penguin Classics; Reissue edition, March 28, 2006) Originally published 1987.