Everything here loses its urgency. We've all become impassive, like statues unaware of the relentless accumulation of the dust of days. Instead of stretching, my notion of space hardens, contracts. Very quickly I get used to the idea that from now on we will be alone, trapped in a gigantic spider's web that thickens around …
quotes from books you haven’t read, #3
"The secret of popular writing is never to put more on a given page than the common reader can lap off it with no strain WHATSOEVER on his habitually slack attention." "THE FIRST PHASE of anyone’s writing always shows them doing something ‘like’ something they have heard or read. The majority of writers never pass …
Just now you still were, Bettina; I sense your presence. Does not the earth still bear your warmth? And do not the birds still leave a space for your voice? The dew is different, but the stars are still the stars of your nights. Or isn't the whole world in fact yours? For how often …
When one goes forth at night, and has the eventide before him, he sees still at the farthest end of the gloomy sky the last bright garment of a splendid day slowly moving downwards, - thus is it with me in my remembrance of thee. Be the time ever so gloomy and mournful, I still …
The Pastor by Hanne Orstavik
Hello wordpress my old friend, it's time to write blog posts again... By the end of this novel I felt that it was a perfect, pristine picture of a depressed and empty person. And I loved it. My first impression of the book was how appealing the physical design was. It is not your normal …
Jonas David 