Through the machineries of greed, pettiness, and the abuse of power, love occurs.
THOMAS PYNCHONIt all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty little heads.
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
-
-
The reality is in this head. Mine. I’m the projector at the planetarium, all the closed little universe visible in the circle of that stage is coming out of my mouth, eyes, and sometimes other orifices also.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Let the peace of this day be here tomorrow when I wake up.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Everybody gets told to write about what they know. The trouble with many of us is that at the earlier stages of life we think we know everything- or to put it more usefully, we are often unaware of the scope and structure of our ignorance.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
What are the stars but points in the body of God where we insert the healing needles of our terror and longing?
THOMAS PYNCHON -
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 PYNCHON -
She thougt of sunrise over the library slope at Cornell University that nobody out on it had seen because the slope faces west.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
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.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Ills are many, blessings few, but dreams tonight will shelter you.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Idle dreaming is often of the essence of what we do.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
If there is something comforting – religious, if you want – about paranoia, there is still also anti-paranoia, where nothing is connected to anything, a condition not many of us can bear for long.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
A screaming comes across the sky.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an elite few, who are the loudest to theorize on freedom, but the least free of all.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
Despair came over her, as it will when nobody around has any sexual relevance to you.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
But with a sigh he had released her hand, while she was so lost in the fantasy that she hadn’t felt it go away, as if he’d known the best moment to let go.
THOMAS PYNCHON