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‘I love the way your eyes narrow when you tell a lie.

We are all doomed, but some are more doomed than others.

The sharpest feeling of nowness, in visual terms, is the deliberate possession of a segment of Space collected by the eye. This is Time’s only contact with Space, but it has a far-reaching reverberation. To be eternal the Present must depend on the conscious spanning of an infinite expansure. Then, and only then, is the…

Since the Present is but an imaginary point without an awareness of the immediate past, it is necessary to define that awareness. Not for the first time will Space intrude if I say that what we are aware of as ‘Present’ is the constant building up of the Past, its smoothly and relentlessly rising level. How meager! How…

Our modest Present is, then, the time span that one is directly and actually aware of, with the lingering freshness of the Past still perceived as part of the nowness. In regard to everyday life and the habitual comfort of the body (reasonably healthy, reasonably strong, breathing the green breeze, relishing the…

The Past, then, is a constant accumulation of images. It can be easily contemplated and listened to, tested and tasted at random, so that it ceases to mean the orderly alternation of linked events that it does in the large theoretical sense.

Space flutters to the ground, but Time remains between thinker and thumb, when Monsieur Bergson uses his scissors.

If my eye tells me something about Space, my ear tells me something about Time. But while Space can be contemplated, naively, perhaps, yet directly, I can listen to Time only between stresses, for a brief concave moment warily and worriedly, with the growing realization that I am listening not to Time itself but to the…

We all know those old wardrobes in old hotels in the Old World subalpine zone. At first one opens them with the utmost care, very slowly, in the vain hope of hushing the excruciating creak, the growing groan that the door emits midway. Before long one discovers, however, that if it is opened or closed with celerity, in…

He ate, drank, schemed.

Распад происходил постепенно, и каждая ступень была мучительнее предыдущей, ведь человеческий мозг способен стать совершеннейшей камерой пыток из всех выдуманных, выстроенных и всосавших за миллионы лет в миллионах земель миллионы воющих тварей.

Давай же не будем томить тупицу, который листает книгу и думает себе: \"Ну и жох же этот В. В.!\"

Представший перед Ваном посыльный отрекомендовался Джеймсом Джоунзом - сочетание, обращаемое полным отсутствием побочных оттенков смысла в идеальный псевдоним, даром что то было его настоящее имя.

Случай рассадил их вокруг стола.

...Единственная разновидность сознания, которая сохраняется по ту сторону жизни, это сознание боли.

Эксцентричность есть величайшее из лекарств, исцеляющих и величайшее горе.

Она неизменно, стоило подхватить какую угодно книгу, с ходу погружалась в чтение, тотчас «окунаясь в книгу» столь же естественно, как возвращается в привычную стихию выброшенное на берег водное существо.

по симметричности подобный выгнувшемуся слову «довод»?

How strange that when one met after a long separation a chum or fat aunt whom one had been fond of as a child the unimpaired human warmth of the friendship was rediscovered at once, but with an old mistress this never happened — the human part of one’s affection seemed to be swept away with the dust of the inhuman…

It aggrieved him — that complete collapse of the past, the dispersal of its itinerant court and music-makers; the logical impossibility to relate the dubious reality of the present to the unquestionable one of remembrance.