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 PYNCHONMy belief is that “recluse” is a code word generated by journalists; meaning, “doesn’t like to talk to reporters.”
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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She may know a little, may think of herself, face and body, as ‘pretty’ but he could never tell her all the rest, how many other living things, birds, nights smelling of grass and rain, sunlit moments of simple peace, also gather in what she is to him.
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It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty little heads.
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Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.
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Someday it’ll all be done by machine. Information machines.
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Life’s single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay sane.
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She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.
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All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.
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What goes around may come around, but it never ends up exactly the same place, you ever notice? Like a record on a turntable, all it takes is one groove’s difference and the universe can be on into a whole ‘nother song.
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Length is usually intensity. Not time.
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The reality is in this head. Mine. I’m the projector at the planetarium, all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.
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Can’t say it often enough — change your hair, change your life.
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A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.
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What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil once in a while, it makes no more or less sense.
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Information. What’s wrong with dope and women? Is it any wonder the world’s gone insane, with information come to be the only real medium of exchange?
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It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.
THOMAS PYNCHON