In the country of last things, Paul Auster
martes, 9 septiembre 2008Words tend to last a bit longer than things, but eventually they fade too, along with the pictures they once evoked.
Words tend to last a bit longer than things, but eventually they fade too, along with the pictures they once evoked.
It’s not a question of right or wrong. That’s the way the world works. Everyman is the prisoner of his pecker, and there’s not a damned thing we can do about it. We try to fight it sometimes, but it’s always a losing battle.
(pág. 94)
As long as a man had the courage to reject what society told him to do, he could live life in his own terms. To what end? To be free. But free to what end? To read books, to write books, to think.
(pag.16)
All men contain several men inside them, and most of us bounce from one self to another without ever knowing who we are.
(pag.122)
We write books, don’t we? What else can you expect from people like us?
(Esto, Sartine, es un homenaje a ti)
(pag.39)
– No thanks. I’m a married man. I have everything I need at home.
– Every man say that. But the dick always wins out over duty.
(pag.128)
…because even the best people do bad things.
(pag.186)
Words could kill, he discovered. Words could alter reality, and therefore they were too dangerous to be entrusted to a man who loved them above everything else.
(pag. 188)
Maybe that’s what writing is all about, Sid. Not recording events from the past, but making things happen in the future.
(pag.189)