For every kind of vampire, there is a kind of cross.
THOMAS PYNCHONTime is never wasted if you remember to bring along something to read.
More Thomas Pynchon Quotes
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What goes around may come around, but it never ends up exactly the same place, you ever notice? Like a record on a turntable, all it takes is one groove’s difference and the universe can be on into a whole ‘nother song.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
They plot, they plot, sleeping or afoot they never let up.
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He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.
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Behind the hieroglyphic streets there would either be a transcendent meaning, or only the earth.
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Someday it’ll all be done by machine. Information machines.
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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 -
Can’t say it often enough — change your hair, change your life.
THOMAS PYNCHON -
If patterns of ones and zeros were ‘like’ patterns of human lives and death, if everything about an individual could be represented in a computer record by a long string of ones and zeros, then what kind of creature would be represented by a long string of lives and deaths?
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You may never get to touch the Master, but you can tickle his creatures.
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Life’s single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay sane.
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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 -
I was dreaming about my grandfather. A very old man, at least as old as I am now, 91. I thought, when I was a boy, that he had been 91 all his life. Now I feel as if I have been 91 all my life.
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A woman is only half of something there are usually two sides to.
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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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What sort of an age is this where a man becomes one’s enemy only when his back is turned?
THOMAS PYNCHON