الخيانة. منذ طفولتنا والوالد ومعلم المدرسة يكرران على مسامعنا بأنها أفظع شيء في الوجود.

I was downstairs, reading."" Now?" I strained to see her face. She was smiling, it appeared."Yes, now," she said. "It's nice, sometimes, to read in the middle of the night. The sky is so dark and soft-looking outside the window, all the stars out. You have just on light on, you know, and it seems to pour onto the page. Makes the book seem better. You are this little island, just up alone with a book. And you heard the night sounds of the house...It's so interesting to me, that sound. Time. The measure of it.

They were readers for whom literature was a drug, each complex plot line delivering a new high, suspending them above reality, allowing them a magical crossover...They had spoken often, with rueful honesty, of how the books they read represented escape, offered pathways to literary landscapes that intrigued and engrossed...From childhood on, books had been the hot air balloons that carried them above the angry mutterings of quarreling parents, schoolyard rejections, academic boredom...They were of a kind, readers from birth.

To je zabluda. Knjiga ne može da zameni svet. To je nemogućno. U životu sve ima svoj smisao i svoj zadatak koji ne mogu bez ostatka biti ispunjeni nečim drugim. Nije mogućno, na primer, proživeti nešto posredstvom nekog zamenika. Tako je i sa svetom i knjigom. Pokušavamo da život zatvorimo u knjige kao pticu pevačicu u kavez. Ali, u tome ne uspevamo. Naprotiv! Čovek od knjiških apstrakcija ne izgrađuje ništa drugo nego sistem u vidu kaveza za sebe.

I felt after I finished Slaughterhouse-Five that I didn’t have to write at all anymore if I didn’t want to. It was the end of some sort of career. I don’t know why, exactly. I suppose that flowers, when they’re through blooming, have some sort of awareness of some purpose having been served. Flowers didn’t ask to be flowers and I didn’t ask to be me. At the end of Slaughterhouse-Five…I had a shutting-off feeling…that I had done what I was supposed to do and everything was OK .

لو سُئلت :ماالذي تتمنى أن تشربه دون أن تفيق ؟، لقلت : عصير الكتب ، خلاصة الفكر ، مسحوق الفلسفة

This little book has been written in the hope that it may appeal to several classes of readers.Not infrequently I have been asked by friends of different callings in life to recommend them some book on mimicry which shall be reasonably short, well illustrated without being very costly, and not too hard to understand. I have always been obliged to tell them that I know of nothing in our language answering to this description, and it is largely as an attempt to remedy this deficiency that the present little volume has been written.

I read the title from the cover. ' 'The joy of... crap.' ' I read the rest of the full title of the thick, nondescript volume to myself and felt myself redden.Noah turned over on to his side and said with mock seriousness, 'I have never read 'The Joy Of Crap'. Sounds disgusting.' I blushed deeper. 'I have, however, read 'The Joy Of Sex.' ' He continued, a smile transforming his face. 'Not in a while, but I think it's one of those classics you can come back to again... and again.

The second death. To think that you died and no one would remember you. I wondered if this was why we tried so hard to make our mark in America. To be known. Think of how important celebrity has become. We sing to get famous; expose our worst secrets to get famous; lose weight, eat bugs, even commit murder to get famous. Our young people post their deepest thoughts on public web sites. They run cameras from their bedrooms. It’s as if we are screaming Notice Me! Remember Me! Yet the notoriety barely lasts. Names quickly blur and in time are forgotten.

Vi sa aldri museum med mindre det var noen utenforstående til stede. Nå er det bare jeg som kan si muleum og skjønne hva det betyr og hvorfor det er et bra ord, men sjarmen med det er borte, eller i hvert fall sterkt redusert, på samme måte som gleden ved mye av det man har delt med andre blir redusert når disse andre faller ned i fly. Jeg kan ikke bruke muleum lenger fordi de jeg brukte det sammen med er borte. Så enkelt er det. Hver eneste dag gjør og sier mennesker ting som forsvinner når de selv forsvinner.

И кога палат книги, тие не ги уништуваат мислите, туку само хартијата на кои тие мисли се запишани.

Τα βιβλία που έχουμε ανάγκη είναι εκείνα που πέφτουν σαν το τσεκούρι στην παγωμένη θάλασσα της ψυχής μας.

And now the measure of my song is done: The work has reached its end; the book is mine, None shall unwrite these words: nor angry Jove, Nor war, nor fire, nor flood, Nor venomous time that eats our lives away. Then let that morning come, as come it will, When this disguise I carry shall be no more, And all the treacherous years of life undone, And yet my name shall rise to heavenly music, The deathless music of the circling stars. As long as Rome is the Eternal City These lines shall echo from the lips of men, As long as poetry speaks truth on earth, That immortality is mine to wear.

Henry had written a novel because there was a hole in him that needed filling, a question that needed answering, a patch of canvas that needed painting—that blend of anxiety, curiosity and joy that is at the origin of art—and he had filled the hole, answered the question, splashed colour on the canvas, all done for himself, because he had to. Then complete strangers told him that his book had filled a hole in them, had answered a question, had brought colour to their lives. The comfort of strangers, be it a smile, a pat on the shoulder or a word of praise, is truly a comfort.

This thing we have, it hurts, he continued. But the pain is almost sweet because it means YOU happened. We happened. And I can't regret that, no matter how little or how long I get to tag along with you and pretend that I don't hate having people recognize me or take pictures or having people whisper about my record--" Your record?"" My criminal record, Bonnie, Nothing platinum there. I'm an ex-con, and starting over and building a new life where I can put it behind me, I'm building a new life where it will never be behind me, and for you, its worth it. It's easy math.