We’re artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don’t we?
ROBERTO BOLANOWe all have to die a bit every now and then and usually it’s so gradual that we end up more alive than ever. Infinitely old and infinitely alive.
More Roberto Bolano Quotes
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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.
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As time goes by, as time goes by, the whip-crack of the years, the precipice of illusions, the ravine that swallows up all human endeavour except the struggle to survive.
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The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life.
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When you die of sorrow it’s as if you’ve broken all the bones in your body, bruised yourself all over, cracked your skull. That’s sorrow.
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If I were to say what I really think I would be arrested or shut away in a lunatic asylum. Come on, I am sure that it would be the same for everyone.
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The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
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Metaphors are our way of losing ourselves in semblances or treading water in a sea of seeming.
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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.
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Reading is more important than writing.
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Death, in the Eastern tradition, was only a passage. What wasn’t clear, was toward what place, what reality, that passage led.
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Literature is the product of a strange rain of blood, sweat, semen, and tears.
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Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.
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Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it’s knowledge and questions.
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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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They could read him, they could study him, they could pick him apart, but they couldn’t laugh or be sad with him.
ROBERTO BOLANO