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Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.

Roberto Bolano

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

Himself Laughter Reading Sadness Study
Death, in the Eastern tradition, was only a passage. What wasn’t clear, was toward what place, what reality, that passage led.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Death Passage Reality Tradition
You have to know how to look even if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Known Yourself
Then he went out without touching anything and put his arm around Ingeborg, and like that, with their arms around each other, they returned to the village while the whole past of the universe fell on their heads.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Each Other Head Past Touch Universe
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.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Children Grow Up Life Philosophy Stop Truth
Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Contamination Game Poetry
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
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
Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Dreams Fade Goodness Light Morning
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
If you’re going to say what you want to say, you’re going to hear what you don’t want to hear.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Arrogance Disrespect Ego Yourself
The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Flower Sky Sunset
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
Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Neighbor Poetry Prison
I’ll tell you, my friends: it’s all in the nerves. The nerves that tense and relax as you approach the edges of companionship and love. The razor-sharp edges of companionship and love.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Approach Edge Friendship Love Nerve
For her, reading was directly linked to pleasure, not to knowledge or enigmas or constructions or verbal labyrinths.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Construction Knowledge Pleasure Reading Verbal

Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.

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Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.

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