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Literature + Illness = Illness.

Roberto Bolano

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.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Curiosity End Fun Honesty Voice
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
Nothing is ever behind us.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Pace Right Time
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
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
I’m an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Education Man Oneself Prison Subtle
Reading is more important than writing.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Important Reading Writing
Reading is pleasure and happiness to be alive or sadness to be alive and above all it’s knowledge and questions.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Happiness Knowledge Pleasure Question Reading
Literature + Illness = Illness.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Illness Literature
Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Dreams Fade Goodness Light Morning
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
Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Contamination Game Poetry
We’re artists too, but we do a good job hiding it, don’t we?
ROBERTO BOLANO

Artist Goodness Hide Job
When I was done traveling, I returned convinced of one thing: we’re nothing.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Myself Return Traveling
Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.
ROBERTO BOLANO

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

Blood Literature Product Strange

Literature + Illness = Illness.

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Literature + Illness = Illness.

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