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Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better.

Roberto Bolano

Literature is the product of a strange rain of blood, sweat, semen, and tears.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Blood Literature Product Strange
we interpret life at moments of the deepest desperation.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Desperation Life Moments
If life is misery, why do we endure it?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Endurance Life Misery
Being alone makes us stronger. That’s the honest truth. But it’s cold comfort, since even if I wanted company no one will come near me anymore.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Alone Company Honesty Myself Strong Truth
Reading is more important than writing.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Important Reading Writing
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
Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Dreams Fade Goodness Light Morning
The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Edible Fat Moon Night Purity
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
Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Myself Reading Wait World
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
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 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
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
Metaphors are our way of losing ourselves in semblances or treading water in a sea of seeming.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Assume Lose Sea Water
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

Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better.

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Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better.

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