The general public has long been divided into two parts; those who think that science can do anything and those who are afraid it will.
THOMAS PYNCHONYou go from dream to dream inside me. You have passage to my last shabby corner, and there, among the debris, you’ve found life. I’m no longer sure which of all the words, images, dreams or ghosts are ‘yours’ and which are ‘mine.’ It’s past sorting out.
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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She may know a little, may think of herself, face and body, as ‘pretty’ but he could never tell her all the rest, how many other living things, birds, nights smelling of grass and rain, sunlit moments of simple peace, also gather in what she is to him.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Let the peace of this day be here tomorrow when I wake up.
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Some of us are afraid of dying; others of human loneliness. Profane was afraid of land or seascapes like this, where nothing else lived but himself.
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Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement. Not A before B, but all together.
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There was no difference between the behavior of a god and the operations of pure chance.
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Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty little heads.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.
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Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.
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What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil once in a while, it makes no more or less sense.
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You know what a miracle is. Not what Bakunin said. But another world’s intrusion into this one. Most of the time we coexist peacefully, but when we do touch there’s cataclysm.
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If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don’t have to worry about answers.
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Get too conceptual, too cute and remote, and your characters die on the page.
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All variables are independent.
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A screaming comes across the sky.
THOMAS PYNCHON






