I know saying this is really beating a dead horse, but
“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
This never fails to give me chills, I always feel melancholic after reading it.
Y a veces me sucedía que cuando yo pasaba frente a una de mis ventanas ella estaba esperándome muda y ansiosa (¿por qué esperándome? ¿y por qué muda y ansiosa?); pero a veces sucedía que ella no llegaba a tiempo o se olvidaba de este pobre ser encajonado, y entonces yo, con la cara apretada contra el muro de vidrio, la veía a los lejos sonreír o bailar despreocupadamente o, lo que era peor, no la veía en absoluto y la imaginaba en lugares inaccesibles o torpes. Y entonces sentía que mi destino era infinitamente más solitario que lo que había imaginado.
He had hands which grimaced, hands which sneered; he had hands which explained, expostulated, threatened, wept; which touched like buttocks in apparent prayer, which joked, which jeered; hands that danced and sang and held the dagger—creating, conducting, eliciting the word—hands which uttered every innuendo, misled, lied, which latched and locked, insulted and defied; hands which greeted one another like old boozing friends, which squeezed yours unexpectedly and left them wet; outstretched, open, pleading hands crisscrossed by lines for life and love and fate, runnels rushing toward the twiddle finger, fat and ringed, the Mounts of Moon and Mercury rising from a plain of soft pink skin, the Girdle of Venus, too, a Via Lasciva like some Gasse in Hamburg; head, health, heart lines, and all the pulpy cushions of the palm, etched as finely as a counterfeiter's plate; hands wholly unlike mine, like Pilate's, water and towel to one another, thumbs and fingers disappearing into the shadow of a duck, a fox, a bear, a skirt; hands which were the equal of another's eye; which were, from time to time, I'm sure, both cock and cunt.
>Better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.
They should do a modern version of Paradise Lost like that one version of Romeo and Juliet with guns.
I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.
>God's in heaven, all's right in the world
This line killed and buried 90% of my edginess for good.
“St Kilda presented man with almost insurmountable odds. Under such conditions of geography and climate Man became infinitesimal before the Infinite”
- Tom Steel, “The Life and Death of St Kilda”
Norwegian is funny like that. We have a lot of idiomatic expressions for taking a shit and piss.
Like: "Skvise ut en Snickers" = Squeezing out a Snickers.
"Sjösette Obama" = Set sail to Obama
And for pissing we have stuff like: "Strupe jöden" = Strangling the Jew.
I don't have one, but I love the entire monologue that this quote comes from in Cyrano de Bergerac. Shit I love the play, and the real man was one of the grandfathers of science-fiction writing.
"I am too proud to be a parasite,
And if my nature wants the germ that grows
Towering to heaven like the mountain pine,
Or like the oak, sheltering multitudes-
I stand, not high it may be-but alone!”
My God, a whole moment of happiness! Is that too little for the whole of a man's life?
That's from White Nights, right? I just re-read it this week, but are you sure that translation is right? The translation I read (in Portuguese of Portugal) says something more to the lines of "My God, a whole minute of happiness! After all, isn't that enough to fill a man's whole life?", which seems more... adequate, considering the character who said it. I don't know shit about this translation I read though, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was wrong or at least not exactly right/close to the original meaning.
“In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long.”
The book was meh but I always loved this line. I went to a rave once and used it as an opener. It was pretty funny.
I remember watching a documentary on Independent Lens about 10 years back about a super-enthusiastic English teacher who taught Shakespeare and American writers to inner-city youth at a public school. Young kids, like 12 or 13. There was a scene where they were reading that section of Huck Finn and this one little kid read that line out loud and just burst into tears.
I've never experienced a book that fully, and it was a beautiful scene