Quotes from Michael Cunningham

Prosím, Bože, seÅ¡li mi nÄ›co, co bych mohl zbož?ovat.

She could, she thinks, have entered another world. She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.

She is an attractive, robust, fleshy, large-headed woman several years younger than Laura (it seems that every one, suddenly, is at least slightly younger than she).

A branch tapping at a window as the sound of horns began; as if the tree, being unsettled by wind, had somehow caused the music. It seems that at that moment she began to inhabit the world; to understand the promises implied by an order larger than human happiness, though it contained human happiness along with every other emotion.

Each day was an identical package, and the gorgeousness of them was their perfect resemblance, each to the others. Like a drug, repetition changes the size of things.

This hotel, this lobby, is precisely what she wants--the cool nowhere of it, the immaculate non-smell, the brisk unemotional comings and going's. She feels, immediately, like a citizen of this place. It is so competent, so unconcerned.

It's the city's crush and heave that move you; its intricacy; its endless life. You know the story about Manhattan as a wilderness purchased for strings of beads, but you find it impossible not to believe that it has always been a city; that if you dug beneath it you would find the ruins of another, older city, and then another and another.

Louis: "I tried to be good. I tried to be open and free." Clarissa: "We all tried. I'm not sure the organism is fully capable.

I could not help investing his every quality with a heightened sense of the real, nor could I quit wondering, from moment to moment, what it was like to be inside his skin.

Happiness is believing that you're gonna be happy. It's hope.

We all tried [to be open and free]. I'm not sure the organism is fully capable.

Heaven only knows why we love it so.

We made love that night, for the first time in a month, and though all the moves came off, the central point was missing. I'd suspected it would be that way. Now sex was a succession of details, with a sweet implosion at the end. It was another feature of the regular day.

Podsjeti se: u jelu nema ništa loše. Ne misli na trulež ni na izmetine; ne misli na lice u zrcalu.

Who wouldn't want to fuck these people up? Which of us does not understand, in our own less presentable depths, the demons and wizards compelled to persecute human mutations clearly meant, by deities thinking only of their own entertainment, to make almost everyone feel even lonelier and homelier, more awkward, more doubtful and blamed, than we actually are?

Hayalperestler, ileri görüÅŸlüler nerede, peki? Hepsini uyuÅŸturuculara ve k?r?lan heveslere mi kurban verdik?

But there are still the hours, aren't there? One and then another, and you get through that one and then, my god, there's another. I'm so sick.

He demands that his mother pick him up so he can see the soldiers better; so he will be more visible to them. All this enters the bridge, resounds through its wood and stone, and enters Virginia's body. Her face, pressed sideways to the piling, absorbs it all: the truck and the soldiers, the mother and the child.

Dünyada en çok istediÄŸi ÅŸey, o olmayan ama t?pat?p onun gibi olan, yard?msever bir diktatörün idaresinde yaÅŸamakt? - ülkeyi gerçekten o (kendisi) yönetseydi, kar?? ç?kma, eleÅŸtirme hakk?ndan vazgeçmesi gerekecekti; eh, itiraz hakk? elinden al?nd??? an geriye ne kal?rd? ondan?

I've felt it for some time now, closing around me like the jaws of a gigantic flower. Isn't that a peculiar analogy? It feels that way, though. It has a certain vegetable inevitability. Think of the Venus flytrap. Think of kudzu choking a forest. It's a sort of juicy, green, thriving process. Toward, well, you know. The green silence. Isn't it funny that, even now, it's difficult to say the word 'death'?

A celestial light appeared to Barrett Meeks in the sky over Central Park, four days after Barrett had been mauled, once again, by love.

Et pendant une minute elle est exactement semblable à son image : une femme agenouillée dans une cuisine à côté de son fils de trois ans, qui sait compter jusqu'à quatre. Elle est elle-même et la parfaite illustration de ce qu'elle est.

La beauté est une putain Je préfère l'argent

Barrett is a bigger guy, not fat (not yet) but ursine, crimson of eye and lip; ginger-furred, possessed (he likes to think) of an enchanted sensual slyness, the prince transformed into wolf or lion, all slumbering large-pawed docility, awaiting, with avid yellow eyes, love's first kiss.