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Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.

Roberto Bolano

The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Edible Fat Moon Night Purity
We’re artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don’t we?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Artist Goodness Hide Job
In the current socio-political climate, he said to himself, committing suicide is absurd and redundant. Better to become an undercover poet.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Climate Commitment Himself Poet Suicide
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.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Body Bone Death Sorrow Yourself
So everything lets us down, including curiosity and honesty and what we love best. Yes, said the voice, but cheer up, it’s fun in the end.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Curiosity End Fun Honesty Voice
Reading is more important than writing.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Important Reading Writing
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
You have to know how to look even if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Known Yourself
Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept like a cripple toward the east.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Color Dance Night
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.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Human Illusion Struggle Survive Swallow Time
I realized my happiness was artificial. I felt happy because I saw the others were happy and because I knew I should feel happy, but I wasn’t really happy.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Feeling Happiness Myself Realize
We never stop reading, although every book comes to an end, just as we never stop living, although death is certain.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Death Philosophy Reading Stop
Literature is the product of a strange rain of blood, sweat, semen, and tears.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Blood Literature Product Strange
No one pays attention to these killings, but the secret of the world is hidden in them.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Attention Hide Kill Oneself Pay Secret
we interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Desperation Life Moments
Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Contamination Game Poetry

Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.

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Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.

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