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 BOLANOWhen 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.
More Roberto Bolano Quotes
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The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
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One should read Borges more.
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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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Every hundred feet the world changes.
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Literature + Illness = Illness.
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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.
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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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I’d obviously never heard of the group, but my ignorance in literary matters is to blame for that (every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me).
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I’m an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.
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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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Nothing happened today. And if anything did, I’d rather not talk about it, because I didn’t understand it.
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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.
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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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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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Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.
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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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When I was done traveling, I returned convinced of one thing: we’re nothing.
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The world is alive and no living thing has any remedy. That is our fortune.
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The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.
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I decided to tell the truth even if it meant being pointed at.
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There is a time for reciting poems and a time for fists.
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Reading is more important than writing.
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We 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.
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If life is misery, why do we endure it?
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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.
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No one pays attention to these killings, but the secret of the world is hidden in them.
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