“I don’t like to see all my energies, all of my youth, wasted in fur coats and radios and slipcovers.”
I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.
All the literati keep at least one imaginary friend.
Voices in the forest tell of dark and twisted enchantments - as dark and twisted as the roots and grasping branches of the trees themselves. Even the most gnarled tree is eloquent in the telling of its own tale.
Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.
Books of 2012: The Famished Road (Okri)
Thoughts in 10 words or less: Magical realism at its finest, post-colonial literature at its strongest.
my book, my good friend (by Tran Phuong Thanh)
One of the three Murakami vending machines you can find at train stations in Poland.
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage hits U.S. bookstores (not vending machines, sadly) on 8/12/14!