black
grey
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Literature + Illness = Illness.

Roberto Bolano

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

Blood Literature Product Strange
The world is alive and no living thing has any remedy. That is our fortune.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Alive Fortune Ourselves World
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’m an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Education Man Oneself Prison Subtle
Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept like a cripple toward the east.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Color Dance Night
There is a time for reciting poems and a time for fists.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Fist Poem Recite Time
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
In some lost fold of the past, we wanted to be lions and we’re no more than castrated cats
ROBERTO BOLANO

Ability Goal Lost Potential Tiger
We’re artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don’t we?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Artist Goodness Hide Job
If life is misery, why do we endure it?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Endurance Life Misery
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
Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Better Goodness Love Philosophy
The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
ROBERTO BOLANO

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

Edible Fat Moon Night Purity
You run risks. That’s the plain truth. You run risks and, even in the most unlikely places, you are subject to destiny’s whims.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Plain Risk Run Subject Truth

Literature + Illness = Illness.

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Literature + Illness = Illness.

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