The heat at night is worse than the heat in daytime. Even with the fan on, nothing moves, and the walls store up warmth, give it out like a used oven. Surely it will rain soon. Why do I want it? It will only mean more dampness. There's lightning far away but no thunder. Looking out the window I can see it, a glimmer, like the phosphorescence you get in stirred seawater, behind the sky, which is overcast and too low and a dull gray infrared. The searchlights are off, which is not usual. A power failure. Or else Serena Joy has arranged it. I
After all that hearing, he writes, I am exposed . . . . cut by bitter and poisoned hail. That was perfect, I thought: you listen to people so that you can imagine them, and you hear all the terrible and wonderful things people do to themselves and to one another, but in the end the listening exposes you even more than it exposes the people you’re trying to listen to. Walking
Pride is a very common failing I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is ver common indeed, that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.
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Vậy mà, từ trên cao này, dãy cửa sổ vàng vọt kia của chúng tôi chắc cũng đang dự phần phô diễn những bí ẩn nhân sinh cho ai đó đang lơ đãng nhìn lên từ dưới những đường phố đang tối dần kia, và chính tôi cũng là người ấy, đang ngẩng nhìn và tự hỏi mình đang thấy những gì. Tôi đang vừa ở trong vừa ở ngoài, vừa bị mê hoặc vừa thấy kinh tởm bởi cái đa dạng khôn kiệt của cuộc đời.
It takes brains not to make money, Colonel Cargill wrote in one of the homiletic memoranda he regularly prepared for circulation over General Peckem’s signature. Any fool can make money these days and most of them do. But what about people with talent and brains? Name, for example, one poet who makes money.
El cielo se ha posado en la ladera, sobre los secretos pimpollares. Por más allá del cerro los relámpagos chafarrinan las alturas con destellos de color que rápidamente se desvanecen. Aire de muerte envuelve a la muerta tierra con una oscuridad de muerte. Aire que pesa sobre mí, aire muerto y caliente, que, pese al vestido, llega hasta mí, hasta la desnudez de mi cuerpo. —Tú no sabes lo que es sentir pena —digo. Ni yo lo sé. No sé si la siento o no. Ni siquiera puedo sentirla. No sé si puedo o no llorar. No sé si he llegado alguna vez a sentirla. Solamente me imagino que soy una semilla silvestre y mojada, caída en la tierra ciega y ardorosa.