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

Roberto Bolano

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
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
Jesus is the masterpiece. The thieves are minor works. Why are they there? Not to frame the crucifixion, as some innocent souls believe, but to hide it.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Believe Frame Innocent Masterpiece Soul Work
Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Myself Reading Wait World
Reading is more important than writing.
ROBERTO BOLANO

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

Color Dance Night
we interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Desperation Life Moments
Reading is like thinking, like praying, like talking to a friend, like expressing your ideas, like listening to other people’s ideas, like listening to music, like looking at the view, like taking a walk on the beach.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Friendship People Prayer Reading Thinking View Walk
Literature + Illness = Illness.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Illness Literature
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
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
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
When people read his books they have an uncontrollable desire to hang the author in the town square. I can’t think of a higher honor for a writer.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Control Desire Myself People Reading Writing
Only in chaos are we conceivable.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Chaos Conceive
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

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

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

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