Quotes About Pynchon

Thomas Pynchon looks exactly like Thomas Pynchon should look. He is tall, he wears lumberjack shirts and blue jeans. He has Albert Einstein white hair and Bugs Bunny front teeth.

Immie put on her sunglasses. "Forrest's writing a novel." "What kind of novel?" asked Jule. "A little Samuel Beckett meets Hunter S. Thompson," said Forrest. "And I'm a big fan of Pynchon, so he's an influence.

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world's intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there's cataclysm.

I've had a tough time with Pynchon. I liked him very much when I first read him. I liked him less with each book. He got denser and more complex in a way that didn't really pay off.

I love reading. I'm fortunate enough to have signed books by Faulkner, Steinbeck, Thomas Pynchon.

Some would say eccentric. I would say stoned out of his fuckin mind, nothing personal.

Stencil had called from a Hungarian coffee shop on York Avenue known as Hungarian Coffee Shop

Our product is still totally DeepArcher?" "Which is…" "Like 'departure', only you pronounce it DeepArcher?" "Zen thing," Maxine guesses. "Weed thing.

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

My belief is that 'recluse' is a code word generated by journalists... meaning, doesn't like to talk to reporters...

Zoyd was out of smokes.

Same old Satanic pact, only more of it.

How do you feel about this terrible thing? Terrible, said Oedipa. Wonderful!

Tchitcherine: "You mean thio phosphate, don't you?" Thinks indicating the presence of sulfur …Wimpe: "I mean theo phosphate, Vaslav," indicating the Presence of God .

You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world's intrusion into this one.

Was that how he'd died, she wondered, among dreams, crushed by the only ikon in the house?

Where may one breathe?" demands one Continental Macaroni, in a yellow waistcoat, "— in New-York, Taverns have rooms where Smoke is prohibited." "Tho' clearly," replies the itinerant Stove-Salesman Mr. Whitpot, drawing vigorously at his Pipe, "what's needed is a No-Idiots Area.

You go from dream to dream inside me. You have passage to my last shabby corner, and there, among the debris, you've found life. I'm no longer sure which of all the words, images, dreams or ghosts are 'yours' and which are 'mine.' It's past sorting out. Thomas Pynchon (Gravity's Rainbow pg 140)

the figure dropped like an acid tab into the mouth of Time.

All talk of cause and effect is secular history, and secular history is a diversionary tactic.

There is nothing so loathsome as a sentimental surrealist.

Thomas Pynchon surely inaugurated or crystallized a new genre in 1963 when he published 'V.' The seriocomic mystery or thriller with one foot set in the present and one in various historical eras received its postmodern baptism from Pynchon.