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The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

Roberto Bolano

I realized my happiness was artificial. I felt happy because I saw the others were happy and because I knew I should feel happy, but I wasn’t really happy.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Feeling Happiness Myself Realize
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
I decided to tell the truth even if it meant being pointed at.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Art Decision Point Truth
Dreams fade with morning light, Never a morn for thee, Dreamer of dreams, goodnight.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Dreams Fade Goodness Light Morning
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
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
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.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Arrest Myself Retard Thinking
One should read Borges more.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Oneself Reading
Poetry and prison have always been neighbors.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Neighbor Poetry Prison
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
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
Every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Book Myself Reading Wait World
There is a time for reciting poems and a time for fists.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Fist Poem Recite Time
Literature + Illness = Illness.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Illness Literature
Poetry is the one thing that isn’t contaminated, the one thing that isn’t part of the game.
ROBERTO BOLANO

Contamination Game Poetry
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

The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

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The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

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