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You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.

Thomas Pynchon

Perhaps its familiarity rendered it temporarily invisible to you.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Illusion Invisible Temporary Yourself
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

Education Herself Rise See Structure Sun Thinking
Someday she might replace whatever of her had gone away by some prosthetic device, a dress of a certain color, a phrase in a letter, another lover.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Color Device Herself Lover Replacement
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

Eyes Head Reality Universe Visible
He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Born Decision Greatness Home Sick Suffering Temporary
All variables are independent.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Independent One Liner Variable
Like so many named places in California it was less an identifiable city than a grouping of concepts–census tracts, special purpose bond-issue districts, shopping nuclei, all overlaid with access roads to its own freeway.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Freedom Identity Name Place Purpose Road
Love with your mouth shut, help without breaking your ass or publicizing it: keep cool, but care.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Break Care Help Logic Public Yourself
Let me be unambiguous. I prefer not to be photographed.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Choice Fame Myself Photography
Information. What’s wrong with dope and women? Is it any wonder the world’s gone insane, with information come to be the only real medium of exchange?
THOMAS PYNCHON

Amazing exchange Information Reality Sanity Woman Wonderful Wrong
You 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.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Dreams Ghost Image Life Passage Past Space Word Yourself
A screaming comes across the sky.
THOMAS PYNCHON

One Liner Scream Sky
You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Creature God Himself People Touch Yourself
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

Fantasy Feeling Hands Let Go Lost Moments
Shall I project a world?
THOMAS PYNCHON

One Liner World
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.
THOMAS PYNCHON

Afraid Death Himself Human Land Live Lonely Sea

You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.

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You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.

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