“And then we cowards who loved the whispering evening, the houses, the paths by the river, the dirty red lights of those places, the sweet soundless sorrow— we reached our hands out toward the living chain in silence, but our heart startled us with blood, and no more sweetness then, no more losing ourselves on the path by the river— no longer slaves, we knew we were alone and alive. (Translated By Geoffrey Brock)”
“moonlight disappears down the hills mountains vanish into fog and i vanish into poetry.”
“People would rather live in a community with unreasonable claims, than face loneliness with their truth”
“I’ve always loved the night, when everyone else is asleep and the world is all mine. It’s quiet and dark—the perfect time for creativity.”
“في تلك الليالي أيقنت بعد جلاء العناصر، أنني جئت إلى هذا الوجود وحيداً، و أنني سأسعى فرداً منقطعاً مهما تعددت الصحبة، و اتصلت الحميمية، و كل ما تؤججه الرفقة إنما لواذٌ وقتي، مرهونٌ بمده، له إبتداء و له إنتهاء شأن كافة المواقيت.”
“She felt just like that girl in that book with the letter A on her chest. Only her A signified Alone. She was an outcast, cast out by her own choices, an outsider with a pretty face. Like a rose, she may have been beautiful to look at, but almost everyone only knew the thorny side.”
“We can t talk about it, or I know she won t so I don t even try, but it s what goes unsaid between people tat builds up like masonry. You have to either knock the bricks out with other things, or let them keep stacking until eventually you are alone in a room.”
“In my room I d barely closed my eyes when the blonde from the movie house came along and sang her whole song of sorrow just for me. I helped her put me to sleep, so to speak, and succeeded pretty well... I wasn t entirely alone... It s not possible to sleep alone...”
“I paid the taxi driver, got out with my suitcase, surveyed my surroundings, and just as I was turning to ask the driver something or get back into the taxi and return forthwith to Chillán and then to Santiago, it sped off without warning, as if the somewhat ominous solitude of the place had unleashed atavistic fears in the driver s mind. For a moment I too was afraid. I must have been a sorry sight standing there helplessly with my suitcase from the seminary, holding a copy of Farewell s Anthology in one hand. Some birds flew out from behind a clump of trees. They seemed to be screaming the name of that forsaken village, Querquén, but they also seemed to be enquiring who: quién, quién, quién. I said a hasty prayer and headed for a wooden bench, there to recover a composure more in keeping with what I was, or what at the time I considered myself to be. Our Lady, do not abandon your servant, I murmured, while the black birds, about twenty-five centimetres in length, cried quién, quién, quién. Our Lady of Lourdes, do not abandon your poor priest, I murmured, while other birds, about ten centimetres long, brown in colour, or brownish, rather, with white breasts, called out, but not as loudly, quién, quién, quién, Our Lady of Suffering, Our Lady of Insight, Our Lady of Poetry, do not leave your devoted subject at the mercy of the elements, I murmured, while several tiny birds, magenta, black, fuchsia, yellow and blue in colour, wailed quién, quién, quién, at which point a cold wind sprang up suddenly, chilling me to the bone.”
“Sometimes she sat and let her mind go blank and her eyes go out of focus, so that she watched the slow, jerky movements of the motes that floated across her pupils. They amazed her as a child. Now she saw them as a reflection of how she moved, floating listlessly through the world, occasionally bumping into another body without acknowledgment, and then floating on, free and alone.”
“From the photo albums, every single print of her had been peeled away. Shots of the both of us together had been cut, the parts with her neatly trimmed away, leaving my image behind. Photos of me alone or of mountains and rivers and deer and cats were left intact. Three albums rendered into a revised past. It was as if I d been alone at birth, alone all my days, and would continue alone.”
“How terrible would it be to just wait there pathetically alone for him never to show up? Eudoxia s expression grew more serious. That s what you re doing anyway, my dear.”
“But it s like no matter how much energy you pour into getting to the station on time, or getting on the right train, there s still no guarantee that anybody s gonna be there for you to pick you up when you get there.”
“She was completely alone, only the distant call of a bird telling her a world existed outside of her circle of pain.”
“I needed to be alone for whatever would happen. I knew that something would as certainly as if this were a last chapter.”
“The act of speaking out makes you alone.”
“It is strange to both fit in everywhere and belong nowhere, to never feel completely at home outside of your own skin”