Quotes from John Fante

But he's dying". "Who isn't?

We were two miles from Bunker Hill, in the east part of town, in the section of factories and breweries. She

fearing nothing but the unknown in a world of mysterious wonder.

I was a coward. I said it aloud to myself: you are a coward. I didn't care. It was better to be a live coward than a dead madman.

Molto ho scordato, Camilla, sulle ali del vento, E ho gettato rose, rose in tumulto tra la folla Danzando per scacciare dalla mente i tuoi pallidi gigli perduti, Ma ero svuotato e triste per l'antica passione, Sì, di continuo, perché la danza era lunga; Ti sono stato fedele, Camilla, a modo mio Arturo Bandini

Sin embargo, hay milagros en la vida. Un hombre puede cambiar, aunque sea para sobrevivir.

Almighty God, I am sorry I am now an atheist, but have You read Nietzsche? Ah, such a book!

There came over me a terrifying sense of understanding about the meaning and the pathetic destiny of men. It was always there, a patient white animal, waiting for men to die, for civilizations to flicker and pass into the darkness. Then men seemed brave to me, and I was proud to be numbered among them. All the evil of the world seemed not evil at all, but inevitable and good and part of that endless struggle to keep the desert down.

There came over me a terrifying sense of understanding about the meaning and the pathetic destiny of men. It was always there, a patient white animal, waiting for them to die, for civilizations to flicker and pass into the darkness. Then men seemed brave to me, and I was proud to be numbered among them. All the evil of the world seemed not evil at all, but inevitable and good and part of that endless struggle to keep the desert down.

Il mondo non era che un mito, un aereo trasparente, su cui tutto era in transito; anche noi […], eravamo qui solo di passaggio per finire poi chissà dove. Non eravamo vivi, noi, ci limitavamo a sfiorare la vita senza mai afferrarla.

Then I walked down the street toward Angel's Flight, wondering what I would do that day. But there was nothing to do, and so I decided to walk around the town.

The desert was always there, a patient white animal, waiting for men to die, for civilizations to flicker and pass into the darkness.

Are the dead restored? The books say no, the night shouts yes. I am twenty, I have reached the age of reason

Love wasn't everything. Women weren't everything. A writer had to conserve his energies.

And sometimes such great quiet joy came to me that I would turn out my lights and cry, and a strange desire to die would come to me.

Religion is the opium of the people!

Sometimes an idea floated harmlessly through the room. It was like a small white bird. It meant no ill-will. It only wanted to help me, dear little bird. But I would strike at it, hammer it out across the keyboard, and it would die on my hands.

A fellow can't be so bad if he loves a girl as good as you.

The sun was bright and the smog an exquisite orange tint as I drove back to Culver City.

And that goes to show that when you are great, you are just great, and even when you do something bad, you are still great.

Patience! It was the least of my virtues.

No wonder his father got drunk. He would get drunk too if he had to keep buying things without money.

Y de qué le sirve a un hombre ganar el mundo entero si pierde su alma?

Si dejaba de creer podía venirme abajo, perder el ritmo, regalar bases a los bateadores. Joder, sí, tenía dudas, pero las reprimía. Ya era bastante dura la vida de un pitcher para que encima tuviera que perder la fe en Dios.