So many books #4


My Thai adventure was perfect for reading. I read every day and, by the end of the 3 weeks, I had a pretty long list of titles to start my reading year off right. This is one habit I managed to keep upon returning and I am happy to say not a day went by that I didn’t read at least a couple of pages. Hurray for good books, right?

When we grow up, we find ways to hide our anxieties, our loneliness, our fear and sorrow. But children hide nothing, putting everything into their tears, which they spread liberally about for the whole world to see.

Yoko Ogawa, The Diving Pool: Three Novellas

A bag has no intentions or desires of its own, it embraces every object that we ask it to hold. You trust the bag, and it, in return, trusts you. To me, a bag is patience; a bag is profound discretion.

Yoko Ogawa, Revenge: Eleven Dark Tales

His suspicion that he was not going in the right direction tortmented him more and more. At last he had the conviction that he would never go anywhere but in the wrong direction, to the very end of the handful of days that was left to him, unhappy moonstruck pilgrim, whose April was to be cut off short.

Ismail Kadare, Broken April

Who in the world has not yearned for a loved one, has never said, If only he or she could come back just once, just one more time…? Despite the fact that it can never happen, never ever. Surely this is the saddest thing about our mortal world, and its sadness will go on shrouding human life like a blanket of fog until its final extinction.

Ismail Kadare, Doruntine

We are to blame for this destruction, we who don’t speak your tongue and don’t know how to keep quiet either. We who didn’t come by boat, who dirty up your doorsteps with our dust, who break your barbed wire. We who came to take your jobs, who dream of wiping your shit, who long to work all hours. We who fill your shiny clean streets with the smell of food, who brought you violence you’d never known, who deliver your dope, who deserve to be chained by neck and feet. We who are happy to die for you, what else could we do? We, the ones who are waiting for who knows what. We, the dark, the short, the greasy, the shifty, the fat, the anemic. We the barbarians.

Yuki Herrera, Signs Preceding the End of the World

I heard you could do that—buy books by the yard, turn them into furniture. People are dumb. I’ll never get over how dumb people are.

Gillian Flynn, The Grownup

The evening’s the best part of the day. You’ve done your day’s work. Now you can put your feet up and enjoy it.

Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day

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