Why does the third of the three brothers, who shares his food with the old woman in the wood, go on to become king of the country? Why does James Bond manage to disarm the nuclear bomb a few seconds before it goes off rather than, as it were, a few seconds afterwards? Because a universe where that did not happen would be a dark and hostile place. Let there be goblin hordes, let there be terrible environmental threats, let there be giant mutated slugs if you really must, but let there also be hope. It may be a grim, thin hope, an Arthurian sword at sunset, but let us know that we do not live in vain.
Terry Pratchett, “Let There Be Dragons” (A Slip of the Keyboard)
It spoke to you so strangely, in a voice that slipped between waves of softly droning static from a television screen.
Match & Mate wrapping paper, late 1960s.
Sometimes I feel like a caretaker of a museum — a huge, empty museum where no one ever comes, and I’m watching over it for no one but myself.
Haruki Murakami, Pinball, 1973 (via larmoyante)
‘I think I’ll be an old maid until I die. I’ll probably sit around with cats for the rest of my life. Whatever happens, I certainly won’t start to drink. But I do have what you call entrenched habits, and I’m not going to change them.’ Edith Bouvier Beale ..
“The all-night convenience store’s empty and no one is behind the counter. You open and shut the glass door a few times causing a bell to go off, but no one appears. You only came to buy a pack of cigarettes, maybe a copy of yesterday’s newspaper – finally you take one and leave thirty-five cents in its place. It is freezing, but it is a good thing to step outside again: you can feel less alone in the night, with lights on here and there between the dark buildings and trees. Your own among them, somewhere. There must be thousands of people in this city who are dying to welcome you into their small bolted rooms, to sit you down and tell you what has happened to their lives. And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.”
— Franz Wright, “Night Walk” (via blxckberrying)
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