Hunger (Penguin Twentieth-Century Classics)

by Knut Hamsun

Autumn had arrived, that lovely, cool time of year when everything turns color and dies.

it had been a long time since I’d had such an ample meal, and I gradually felt that same sense of satiated repose you experience after a good cry.

Had he heard about the electric hymn book that Happolati had invented? “What, an elec—?” With electric letters that shone in the dark?

The consciousness of being honest went to my head, filling me with the glorious sensation that I was a man of character, a white beacon in the midst of a turbid human sea with floating wreckage everywhere.