Two Days Gone Quotes

“Понеделникът пристигна като товарен влак, дълъг километър и половина и пълен с радиоактивни отпадъци."

"Чернова", Рандал Силвис”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“We are all made up,” he answered aloud. “We are only real at night.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“Huston conducted all of his relationships from a solid center, from within the stabilizing orbit of his family, always venturing out from and returning to family, with his every action and reaction synchronized with family first, family last, family always, whereas DeMarco, on the other hand, had no center. He ventured out to the other relationships from emptiness, and to emptiness he returned. Every action synchronized with nothing. Emptiness first, emptiness last, emptiness always.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“The Name of the Rose and J. M. Synge’s Riders to the Sea?”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“front”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“Nathan said, “Not a chance. I’ve heard him recite it in class. He knows dozens of Poe’s poems by heart. ‘The Raven,’ ‘Lenore,’ ‘The Lake,’ ‘To Annie’…dozens of them. Sometimes I think he fucking channels Poe.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“It was a kind of Occam’s razor for law enforcement that adultery explained nearly everything. Infidelity. Lust. Stupidity and weakness.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“He sagged against the tree, clung to it, pushed hard against the horrible images while he chanted to the bark, She is a dark-haired woman, green eyed and dusky with secrets. Her mouth is sensuous but sad, limbs long and elegant, every movement languid…”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“Because poets and pretty, young things still believe in romance. They still believe that truth heals and beauty sutures. They still believe that love forestalls, deters, and turns away the tragedy that is life.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“All the solitary hours a writer pours into a novel would avail little if not for the solitary hours poured into it by many unseen others. Anyway I assume those others also do their work in solitude; maybe they work in pairs or crews or tag teams, but I’d rather imagine them slaving over my words in a poorly lit and otherwise unoccupied room, just as I do. Maybe they will have a little music for company, but nothing too upbeat, something along the lines of Mozart’s Requiem, for example, because as everybody who has ever worked on a book knows, this work can be as grueling in its way as crawling on your knees through ten acres of ground-hugging plants to pick potato beetles off one at a time and flick them into a galvanized bucket filled with soapy water. But it can also be as transcendent as the Requiem—or as picking potato beetles when you are in the right frame of mind for it.

Knowing other people are engaged in the same underappreciated labor and squeezing a perverse kind of joy out of it is what keeps me writing, especially if it’s my field of potatoes they are picking over. Sometimes I like to picture each of my collaborators working their way down a row, their backs aching, hands filthy with beetle juice, fingernails broken, eyes going cross-eyed in the faltering light. It’s inspirational.

Thirty years ago, I would have written (and did) a dull-as-dirt acknowledgment to thank each of my collaborators. It would have had all the excitement of a divorce decree. Back then I had no idea how difficult and precarious a job it is to turn out a novel every couple of years. It gets more difficult and precarious every year. So does living. To me, they’re pretty much the same thing.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone

“Behind him, the lights of Erie appeared to be underwater now, a twinkling city sinking into an indigo sea.”
― Randall Silvis, Two Days Gone