More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Crowds make me too thoughtful.
a blackbird sings in dark purples.
Parts of Anju are too bright, parts of Anju are so dark she isn’t even here.
A single night is stuffed with minutes, but they come undone and get blown away, one by one.
A moth drowns in the moonlight.
FUJIFILM smuggled three o’clock over the border without my noticing.
Inland mountains heave and lurch toward the breaking sky. Light smooths the sea over.
words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither wildly as they make their way across the universe,
acorns of agony spatter down around me.
sunlight leans against the windows in solid bars.
densely pyloned mountains shuffle this way. On the right the sea pencils in the horizon.
the silence sighs loudly.
The mirror breaks into applause—the
The horn players are all mutes.
o ho ho.
“Your inability to believe is the cause of your present dilemma.”
ha!
I get up, hoping for an unseen plot twist to get me out of here.
Afternoon drains away the day into a hole of evening.
Are you hoping to kill me by sheer anticlimax?”
It seems I have found my hiding place. I emerge into a library-study with the highest book-population density I have seen in my life. Book walls, book towers, book avenues, book side-streets. Book spillages, book rubble. Paperback books, hardcover books, atlases, manuals, almanacs. Nine lifetimes of books. Enough books to build an igloo to hide in, and then to hide the igloo. The room is sentient with books. Mirrors double and cube the books. A Great Wall of China quantity of books. Enough books to make me wonder if I am a book too.
Ahhhh..
time extracted the minutes from hours.
An anvil cloud lugged itself overhead.
The marginal wind blew a forlorn note.
The aspirin moon was dissolving in the lukewarm morning.
You don’t so much solve problems, as live through them.”
video camera watches the supermarket parking lot. Yet another is mounted on the bridge to meditate on passing traffic.
arborescent soul,
Could it be that, instead, profundity is concealed in the obvious? Does the truest originality hide itself within the d-dullest cliche?”
The world is an ordered flowchart of subplots,
reality is an unedited script performed once; that the truly untold tale is life itself.
He paused to admire the view—highlands, lowlands, rainforests, slums, palaces, islands, plains, the nine corners of the compass. Peace rained.
A piebald rabbit disappeared amid a rhomboid rhubarb riot.
“I will tell you this. Growing old is an unwinnable campaign. During this war we witness the ugliest metamorphoses. Faith becomes cynical transactions between liars. Sacrifices turn out to be needless excesses.
the body is the outermost layer of the mind.
“Maybe the meaning of life lies in looking for it.”
this!
I forget that other people in the world have broken parts too.
It was a possible future, auditioned by the present but rejected with other dreams.
A clock drags the minutes past.
The weak are meat, the strong eat.”
I believe it's Cloud Atlas that reiterates this aphorism... "The weak are meat the strong do eat."
It may appear in other works.
“Saratoga, eastern Texas?”
LINK... see Ghostwritten, chapters CLEAR ISLAND and NIGHT TRAIN.
The minutes jog up the down escalator.
The cloud atlas turns its pages over.
I still cannot say why I feel so at peace with the world. I am suspicious of this feeling—when it leaves you feel hollower than before.
try to smoke my craving instead of its object.
Our grandmother brews bitterness for personal consumption later.
‘Rise early. The hour before dawn is a gift from paradise.’
Tis true.
“Dreams are shores where the ocean of spirit meets the land of matter. Dreams are beaches where the yet-to-be, the once-were, the will-never-be may walk awhile with the still-are.
oh yes
Urgent clouds stream across a cinema sky.
The bored horizon yawns down the coast south from Miyazaki.
under an end-of-the-world sky.
Time has so many gears.
Indeed.
