He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.
THOMAS PYNCHONYou 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.
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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There is no real direction here, neither lines of power nor cooperation. Decisions are never really made – at best they manage to emerge, from a chaos of peeves, whims, hallucinations and all around assholery.
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Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement. Not A before B, but all together.
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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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But with a sigh he had released her hand, while she was so lost in the fantasy that she hadn’t felt it go away, as if he’d known the best moment to let go.
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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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Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.
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If the world offered nothing, nowhere to support or make bearable whatever her private grief was, then it is that world, and not she, that is at fault.
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There was no difference between the behavior of a god and the operations of pure chance.
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You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
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Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.
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Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength.
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Idle dreaming is often of the essence of what we do.
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Love with your mouth shut, help without breaking your ass or publicizing it: keep cool, but care.
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Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.
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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.
THOMAS PYNCHON