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In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we’re no more than castrated cats

Roberto Bolano

We’re artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don’t we?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Artist Goodness Hide Job
The American mirror, said the voice, the sad American mirror of wealth and poverty and constant useless metamorphosis, the mirror that sails and whose sails are pain.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Constant Mirror Pain Poverty Voice Wealth
Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Contamination Game Poetry
I kept having dreams all night. I thought they were touching me with their fingers. But dreams don’t have fingers, they have fists, so it must have been scorpions.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Dreams Fingers Thinking Touching
Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Better Goodness Love Philosophy
Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Neighbor Poetry Prison
Every hundred feet the world changes.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Change Travel World
I’m an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Education Man Oneself Prison Subtle
Nothing happened today. And if anything did, I’d rather not talk about it, because I didn’t understand it.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Myself Talk Understand
The world is alive and no living thing has any remedy. That is our fortune.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Alive Fortune Ourselves World
I decided to tell the truth even if it meant being pointed at.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Art Decision Point Truth
Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it’s knowledge and questions.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Happiness Knowledge Pleasure Question Reading
The secret story is the one we’ll never know, although we’re living it from day to day, thinking we’re alive, thinking we’ve got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn’t matter.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Known Live Oneself Secret Story Thinking
Only in chaos are we conceivable.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Chaos Conceive
Nothing is ever behind us.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Pace Right Time
The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Flower Sky Sunset

In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we’re no more than castrated cats

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In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we’re no more than castrated cats

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