BUDGE (muffled)
No,no,nono.
NURSE BAKER
I understand what you're trying to say.
BUDGE
A hideous scream.
NURSE BAKER
Exactly.
BUDGE
A cry of desperation.
NURSE BAKER
Perfect.
BUDGE
A strangled sob. A plea torn from my throat. What sound can I make to convince you I'm not the one you want? A disconsolate sigh? Maybe that's what you want to hear. The smallest human moan imaginable. A whisper in a corner of an unlit room, with curtains blowing in the wind.
NURSE BAKER
What could be more touching?
Insanity's so personal. It's hard to know who shares our secrets.
Don DeLilloThe greater the scientific advance, the more primitive the fear.
Don DeLilloMostra la citazione in tedesco
Mostra la citazione in francese
Mostra la citazione in italiano
War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.
Don DeLilloGrass: I live in a great steel tower that reflects the blazing sun. People catch fire just walking by. The more bodies that pile up around you, the greater your equity, the stronger your power, the longer you live. This is the point of living in a high rise. To see the bodies pile up at sunset, the nostalgic hour, the hour of summing up, stirring the cocktails, feeling the great tower sway in the hot winds.
Don DeLilloGrass: I’ve invested heavily in blood futures. I have a direct line to the trading floor for polyester blood. There’s a heaving mass of men crying out their bids. The blood arrives at the warehouse in the form of double-knit suits. It’s the only kind of suit I wear. When I collapse in the street, paramedics rush me to the hospital, liquefy the suit and inject it in my veins.
Don DeLilloWYATT: What kind of sound waves?
DR. BAZELON: Tapes of the cries of baby mice. This sound reaches a level of forty thousand cycles per second. It's the purest thing in nature.
No, no, no, no. Who are you? What is this? Don't leave. They're leaving. They've left.
Don DeLilloThere's just so much time set aside for baffled reaction. I believe we've reached the limit.
Don DeLilloPast, present and future are not amenities of language. Time unfolds into the seamsof being. It passes through you, making and shaping.
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