“Hungry man, reach for the book: it is a weapon.”
“You know, it s hard work to write a book. I can t tell you how many times I really get going on an idea, then my quill breaks. Or I spill ink all over my writing tunic.”
“Hair the color of lemons, Rudy read. His fingers touched the words. You told him about me? At first, Liesel could not talk. Perhaps it was the sudden bumpiness of love she felt for him. Or had she always loved him? It s likely. Restricted as she was from speaking, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to drag her hand across and pull her over. It didn t matter where. Her mouth, her neck, her cheek. Her skin was empty for it, waiting. Years ago, when they d raced on a muddy field, Rudy was a hastily assembled set of bones, with a jagged, rocky smile. In the trees this afternoon, he was a giver of bread and teddy bears. He was a triple Hitler Youth athletics champion. He was her best friend. And he was a month from his death. Of course I told him about you, Liesel said.”
“I d like to bite that lip.”
“We all get lost once in a while, sometimes by choice, sometimes due to forces beyond our control. When we learn what it is our soul needs to learn, the path presents itself. Sometimes we see the way out but wander further and deeper despite ourselves; the fear, the anger or the sadness preventing us returning. Sometimes we prefer to be lost and wandering, sometimes it s easier. Sometimes we find our own way out. But regardless, always, we are found.”
“Things change, friends leave. And life doesn t stop for anybody.”
“Books are better than television, the internet, or the computer for educating and maintaining freedom. Books matter because they state ideas and then attempt to thoroughly prove them. They have an advantage precisely because they slow down the process, allowing the reader to internalize, respond, react and transform. The ideas in books matter because time is taken to establish truth, and because the reader must take the time to consider each idea and either accept it or, if he rejects it, to think through sound reasons for doing so. A nation of people who write and read is a nation with the attention span to earn an education and free society if they choose.”
“What is a book? Is it the binding, the ink, the pages, or the sum of the words contained?”
“After the bitching I d done to Abe about going to remote, crappy places, I should have been excited about the prospect of going to Sin City.”
“You have to learn to look at the whole of something, not just the parts.”
“He took my hand, made me stand on the branch and asked, What can you see from here? Nothing I said, Know what I can see? From this distance everything is so bloody perfect .”
“Your party kicked so much ass!Even though you suck so much! It s like, instead of blood, your heart pumps liquid suck! But thanks for the beer!”
“-Mikhail?...Try making suggestions next time, or just plain asking. You go do whatever it is you re doing, and I ll go search you extensive library for a book on manners. -You will not find it. -Why am I not surprised?”
“Still. Four words. And I didn’t realize it until a couple of days ago, when someone wrote in to my blog: Dear Neil, If you could choose a quote - either by you or another author - to be inscribed on the wall of a public library children’s area, what would it be? Thanks! Lynn I pondered a bit. I’d said a lot about books and kids’ reading over the years, and other people had said things pithier and wiser than I ever could. And then it hit me, and this is what I wrote: I’m not sure I’d put a quote up, if it was me, and I had a library wall to deface. I think I’d just remind people of the power of stories, and why they exist in the first place. I’d put up the four words that anyone telling a story wants to hear. The ones that show that it’s working, and that pages will be turned: “… and then w”
“لم يكن صراخها لهاثاً ولم يكن تأوّهاً، بل صراخ حقيقي. كانت تصرخ بصوت عالٍ إلى درجة أن توماس أبعد رأسه عن وجهها وكأن صوتها الزاعق سيثقب طبلة أذنه. لم يكن هذا الصراخ تعبيراً عن الشبق فالشبق هو التعبئة القصوى للحواس: نراقب الآخر بانتباه بالغ ونسمع أدنى أصواته. لكن صراخ تيريزا كان بخلاف ذلك، يريد أن يُرهق الحواس ويمنعها من الرؤية والسمع. كانت المثالية الساذجة لحبّها هي التي تزعق في داخلها راغبة في إلغاء كل التناقضات، وفي إلغاء ثنائية الروح والجسد، وحتّى في إلغاء الزمن.”
“الموسيقى بالنسبة لفرانز هي الفن الأكثر قرباً من الجمال الديونيسي الذي يقدّس النشوة. يمكن لرواية أو للوحة أن تدوّخنا ولكن بصعوبة. أما مع السمفونية التاسعة لبيتهوڤن، أو مع السوناتة المؤلفة من آلتيْ بيانو وآلات النقر لبارتوك، أو مع أغنية للبيتلز، فإن النشوة تعترينا. من جهة أخرى فإن فرانز لا يفرّق بين الموسيقى العظيمة والموسيقى الخفيفة. فهذا التفريق يبدو له خبيثاً وبالياً، فهو يحب موسيقى الروك وموزار على حد سواء. الموسيقى بالنسبة له محرّرة: إذ تحرره من الوحدة والانعزال ومن غبار المكتبات. وتفتح في داخل جسده أبواباً لتخرج النفس وتتآخى مع الآخرين. كما أنه يحب الرقص إلى جانب ذلك ويشعر بالأسى لأن سابينا لا تشاركه هذا الولع.”
“الوقت الإنساني لا يسير في شكل دائري بل يتقدم في خط مستقيم. من هنا، لا يمكن للإنسان أن يكون سعيداً لأن السعادة رغبة في التكرار.”