Quotes from Paul Auster

One beer too many, and a verbal dispute suddenly and unexpectedly explodes into a punching match. Such things happen every night in bars, pubs, and cafés all across the world, but the bloody noses and aching jaws that generally follow from these dustups in Canada, Norway, or France often turn out to be gunshot wounds in the United States.

One gapes at the wonder of those headphones. A man is about to toss two canisters of tear gas into a crowd of four hundred people and then open fire on them with a shotgun, semi-­automatic rifle, and a handgun, and yet his nerves are so delicately strung that he cannot bear to listen to the clamor and the screams those actions will inevitably provoke.

Once we acquired the power to destroy ourselves, the very notion of human life had been altered; even the air we breathed was contaminated with the stench of death. Sachs was hardly the first person to come up with this idea, but considering what happened to him nine days ago, there's a certain eeriness to the obsession, as if it were a kind of deadly pun, a mixed-up word that took root inside him and proliferated beyond his control.

Ik houd mezelf voor dat ik beter moet weten dan zo verbaasd te reageren, dat de dingen nu eenmaal zo lopen in de wereld, dat we allemaal sterfelijk zijn en dat ons einde zich elk moment kan aandienen. Maar een objectief beeld biedt geen greintje troost. Het hart bloedt. En daar bestaat geen remedie tegen.

Put something in the wrong place, and even though it is still there—quite possibly smack under your nose—it can vanish for the rest of time.

Iedere schrijver beoordeelt zichzelf - meestal hardvochtig - en dat is waarschijnlijk de reden dat schrijvers blijven schrijven: in de ijdele hoop dat ze het er de volgende keer beter van afbrengen.

La única persona con la que sabía cómo comportarme era conmigo mismo; pero verdaderamente yo ya no era nadie, no estaba realmente vivo. Sólo era alguien que fingía estar vivo, un muerto que

en ilginç olan da Sisifos Söyleni'nin ilk cümleleriydim: "Gerçekten ciddi olan tek bir felsefi sorun vard?r, o da intihard?r. Ya?am?n ya?amaya de?er olup olmad??? hakk?mda karar vermek felsefenin o temel sorununu cevaplamaktan ibarettir.

he wound up misbehaving in a manner so bold and outlandishly inappropriate that it wasn't clear to him if he had lost his mind or accidentally solved the mystery of the universe.

Si me dijeran que tengo que estar mirándote las veinticuatro horas del día durante el resto de mi vida, no pondría objeción alguna.

Maar is lezen juist niet de kunst van het zelf zien, van het oproepen van beelden in je eigen hoofd? En heeft de schoonheid van het lezen niet alles te maken met de stilte die je omgeeft zodra je je in het verhaal hebt gestort, het stemgeluid van de schrijver die weerklinkt in je hoofd en alle andere geluiden buitensluit?

Ferguson closed his eyes, paused for a long moment, and then turned to her and said: The best thing about being fifteen is that you don't have to be fifteen for more than a year.

No hay nada que disimular. Tiene usted derecho a sus propios sentimientos.

una persona nerviosa y refunfuñona, demasiado angustiada por las minucias de la vida cotidiana para entender que la vida se te podía escapar antes de empezar a vivirla,

Mr. Bones knew that Willy wasn't long for this world. The cough had been inside him for over six months, and by now there wasn't a chance in hell that he would ever get rid of it.

Willy's sidekick was a hodgepodge of genetic strains – part collie, part Labrador, part spaniel, part canine puzzle – and to make matters worse, there were burrs protruding from his ragged coat, bad smells emanating from his mouth, and a perpetual bloodshot sadness lurking in his eyes.

That's American know-how for you. It keeps coming at you, and every minute there's new junk to push out the old junk.

Her ?ey öz olur; kitab?n merkezi onu ilerleten her olayla birlikte de?i?ir. Öyleyse, merkez her yerdedir ve kitap sonuna ula?madan bir çember çizilemez.

Hector daha ünlü bir y?ld?z olsayd? bu öyküler sürüp giderdi ku?kusuz.Kendisi hakk?nda anlat?lanlarda ya?ar,toplumsal bilincin alt katmanlar?nda yer edinmi? simgesel ki?ilerden birine dönü?ür;gençli?in,umudun ve kaderin ?eytanca oyunlar?n?n temsilcisi haline gelirdi.

in the end books are not luxuries so much as necessities, and reading is an addiction he has no wish to be cured of.

At 4:32 I arrive at my desk, read what I have written the day before, rip it up, eat it, then sit, absolutely motionless for a period of six hours and eighteen minutes, waiting to be inspired

Maybe it's better this way. You have to live in the present, right? The past is past, and no matter how much time I spend with those pictures, I'm never going to get it back.

A steady fuck is good for you.

It was a dizzying prospect—to imagine all that freedom, to understand how little it mattered what choice he made. He could go anywhere he wanted, he could do anything he felt like doing, and not a single person in the world would care.