Bruno Silva > Bruno's Quotes

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  • #1
    William Faulkner
    “In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don't know what I am. I don't know if I am or not.”
    William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

  • #2
    William Faulkner
    “He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself. But the street ran on: catlike, one place was the same as another to him. But in none of them could he be quiet. But the street ran on in its moods and phases, always empty: he might have seen himself as in numberless avatars, in silence, doomed with motion, driven by the courage of flagged and spurred despair; by the despair of courage whose opportunities had to be flagged and spurred.”
    William Faulkner, Light in August

  • #3
    William Faulkner
    “In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied for sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don't know what I am. I don't know if I am or not. Jewel knows he is, because he does not know that he does not know whether he is or not. He cannot empty himself for sleep because he is not what he is and he is what he is not. Beyond the unlamped wall I can hear the rain shaping the wagon that is ours, the load that is no longer theirs that felled and sawed it nor yet theirs that bought it and which is not ours either, lie on our wagon though it does, since only the wind and the rain shape it only to Jewel and me, that are not asleep. And since sleep is is-not and rain and wind are was, it is not. Yet the wagon is, because when the wagon is was, Addie Bundren will not be. And Jewel is, so Addie Bundren must be. And then I must be, or I could not empty myself for sleep in a strange room. And so if I am not emptied yet, I am is.

    How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.”
    William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

  • #4
    Dante Alighieri
    “Now you know how much my love for you
    burns deep in me
    when I forget about our emptiness,
    and deal with shadows as with solid things.”
    Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio

  • #5
    Henry Miller
    “I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.”
    Henry Miller

  • #6
    Georges Perec
    “4. Or else:
    Rough draft of a letter

    I think of you, often
    sometimes I go back into a cafe, I ist near the door, I order a coffee
    I arrange my packet of cigarettes, a box of matches, a writing pad, my felt-pen on the fake marble table
    I Spend a long time stirring my cup of coffee with the teasspoon
    (yet I don't put any sugar in my coffee, I drink it allowing the sugar to melt in my mouth, like the people of North, like the Russians and Poles when they drink tea)
    I pretend to be precoccupied, to be reflecting, as if I had a decision to make
    At the top and to the right of the sheet of paaper, I inscribe the date, sometimes the place, sometimes the time, I pretend to be writing a letter

    I write slowly, very slowly, as slowly as I can, I trace, I draw each letter, each accent, I check the punctuation marks

    I stare attentively at a small notice, the price-list for ice-creams, at a piece of ironwork, a blind, the hexagonal yellow ashtray (in actual fact, it's an equilaterial triangle, in the cutoff corners of which semi-circular dents have been made where cigarettes can be rested)


    Outside there's a bit of sunlight
    the cafe is nearly empty
    two renovatior's men are having a rum at the bar, the owner is dozing behind his till, the waitress is cleaning the coffee machine

    I am thinking of you
    you are walking in your street, it's wintertime, you've turned up your foxfur collar, you're smiling, and remote

    George Perec

  • #8
    Dante Alighieri
    “In the middle of the journey of our life I found myself within a dark woods where the straight way was lost.”
    Dante Alighieri, Inferno

  • #9
    Marcel Proust
    “...the memory of a particular image is but regret for a particular moment..”
    Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

  • #10
    Ernest Hemingway
    “No animal has more liberty than the cat, but it buries the mess it makes. The cat is the best anarchist.”
    Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

  • #11
    Dante Alighieri
    “And to a place I come where nothing shines.”
    Dante Alighieri

  • #12
    Dante Alighieri
    “Midway along the journey of our life
    I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
    for I had wandered off from the straight path.”
    Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

  • #13
    Charles Dickens
    “There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.”
    Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

  • #14
    Dante Alighieri
    “I found myself within a forest dark,”
    Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

  • #15
    Ernest Hemingway
    “you can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.”
    Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

  • #16
    David Lynch
    “Even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all.”
    David Lynch

  • #17
    Franz Kafka
    “We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.”
    Franz Kafka

  • #18
    Franz Kafka
    “What's happened to me,' he thought. It was no dream.”
    Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

  • #19
    Dante Alighieri
    “In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost. Ah, how hard a thing it is to tell what a wild, and rough, and stubborn wood this was, which in my thought renews the fear!”
    Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

  • #20
    Joseph Conrad
    “I always went my own road and on my own legs where I had a mind to go”
    Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

  • #21
    Henry Miller
    “I have found God, but he is insufficient.”
    Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  • #22
    Ernest Hemingway
    “Oh, darling, you will be good to me, won’t you? Because we’re going to have a strange life.”
    Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

  • #23
    Henry Miller
    “She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately--- a thousand eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us an we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit down beside her and she talks--- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.”
    Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  • #24
    Henry Miller
    “Everybody says sex is obscene. The only true obscenity is war.”
    Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  • #25
    Anaïs Nin
    “Things I forgot to tell you:

    That I love you, and that when I awake in the morning I use my intelligence to discover more ways of appreciating you.

    That when June comes back she will love you more because I have loved you. There are new leaves on the tip and climax of your already overrich head.

    That I love you.
    That I love you.
    That I love you.

    I have become an idiot like Gertrude Stein. That’s what love does to intelligent women. They cannot write letters anymore.”
    Anaïs Nin, A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin Henry Miller, 1932-1953
    tags: love

  • #25
    Henry Miller
    “People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes out, but you can’t permanently get deloused. Everywhere I go, people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy. It’s in the blood now - misfortune, ennui, grief, suicide. The atmosphere is saturated with disaster, frustration, futility. Scratch and scratch - until there is no skin left. However, the effect upon me is exhilarating. Instead of being discouraged or depressed, I enjoy it. I am crying for more and more disasters, for bigger calamaties, for grader failures. I want the whole world to be out of wack, I want everyone to scratch himself to death.”
    Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  • #26
    Henry Miller
    “I will go directly to her home, ring the bell, and walk in. Here I am, take me-or stab me to death. Stab the heart, stab the brains, stab the lungs, the kidneys, the viscera, the eyes, the ears. If only one organ be left alive you are doomed-doomed to be mine, forever, in this world and the next and all the worlds to come. I'm a desperado of love, a scalper, a slayer. I'm insatiable. I eat hair, dirty wax, dry blood clots, anything and everything you call yours. Show me your father, with his kites, his race horses, his free passes for the opera: I will eat them all, swallow them alive. Where is the chair you sit in, where is your favorite comb, your toothbrush, your nail file? Trot them out that I may devour them at one gulp. You have a sister more beautiful than yourself, you say. Show her to me-I want to lick the flesh from her bones.”
    Henry Miller, Sexus

  • #27
    Henry Miller
    “The cancer of time is eating us away”
    Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

  • #28
    Charles Bukowski
    “I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.”
    Charles Bukowski, Love Is a Dog from Hell

  • #29
    Charles Bukowski
    “I got my hands under the breasts, lifted them. Tons of meat. Meat without mouth or eye. MEAT MEAT MEAT. i slammed it into my mouth and flew into heaven.”
    Charles Bukowski, The Most Beautiful Woman in Town & Other Stories

  • #30
    Georges Perec
    “It is on a day like this one,
    a little later a little earlier
    that you descover without surprise
    that something is wrong
    that you don't know how to live
    and you will never know”
    Georges Perec, Un homme qui dort

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