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The Gone World
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The Count of Mont...
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Sam Pink
“I sat there terrified.
Why would anyone accept some random hug.
I'd never accepted a random hug in my life.
And never would!
Actually no.
What the fuck.
Who am I to deny.
I'd take the first one offered by anyone right now--even if I saw the person holding a giant knife behind his/her back.
Even if the person ended up stabbing me, I'd take a deep breath and put my mouth by his or her ear and say, "I knew you'd do this. I knew it, sweetheart. And, well I still thank you for the hug."
I turned the page.”
Sam Pink, Rontel

Karl Ove Knausgård
“The music was linked with almost everything I had done, none of the records came without a memory. Everything that had happened in the last five years rose like steam from a cup when I played a record, not in the form of thoughts or reasoning, but as moods, openings, space. Some general, others specific. If my memories were stacked in a heap on the back of my life’s trailer, music was the rope that held them together and kept it, my life, in position.”
Karl Ove Knausgård, Min kamp 4

John Steinbeck
“Why, they're the dirtiest guys in any town. They're the same ones that burned the houses of old German people during the war. They're the same ones that lynch Negroes. They like to be cruel. They like to hurt people, and they always give it a nice name, patriotism or protecting the constitution.”
John Steinbeck, In Dubious Battle

Suzy  Davies
“The measure of any man is what he does with the power he has; what kind of legacy he leaves in the world when he is gone. If he lives on in our memories what exactly do we most remember about his actions and how he has influenced or changed the lives of others. We cannot rely on the judgment of a few; we have to listen to his enemies as well as his friends. Moreover, what has he done to improve the lives of those who can never do anything for him?”
Suzy Davies

Joan Didion
“It is the phenomenon somethings called "alienation from self." In its advanced stages, we no longer answer the telephone, because someone might want something; that we could say no without drowning in self-reproach is an idea alien to this game. Every encounter demands too much, tears the nerves, drains the will, and the specter of something as small as an unanswered letter arouses such disproportionate guilt that answering it becomes out of the question. To assign unanswered letters their proper weight, to free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves - there lies the great, the singular power of self-respect. Without it, one eventually discovers the final turn of the screw: one runs away to find oneself, and finds no one at home.”
Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem

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