There is no escape from this. Either you do or you don't. And if
you do, you can't be sure of doing it the next time. And if you
don't, you never will again.
When you've lived as long as I have, you tend to think you've heard
everything, that there's nothing left that can shock you anymore.
You grow a little complacent about your so-called knowledge of the
world, and then, every once in a while, something comes along that
jolts you out of your smug cocoon of superiority, that reminds you all
over again that you don't understand the first thing about life.
Better to wait quietly in their corner, they think, than to be dashed
against the stones.
But suddenly, after all this time, I feel there is something to say, and if I don't
quickly write it down, my head will burst. It doesn't matter if you read it. It
doesn't even matter if I send it - assuming that could be done. Perhaps it comes
down to this. I am writing to you because you know nothing. Because you are far
away from me and know nothing.
Aus den fernsten Weiten des Weltraums betrachtet, ist die Erde nicht größer als ein Staubkorn. Bedenke das, wenn du das nächste Mal das Wort "Menschheit" schreibst.
Paul AusterAs long as you are dreaming, there is always a way out
Paul AusterEscaping into a film is not like escaping into a book. Books force you to give something back to them, to exercise your intelligence and imagination, where as you can watch a film-and even enjoy it-in a state of mindless passivity.
Paul AusterFor several years Quinn had been having the same conversations with this man, whose name he did not know. Once, when he had been in the luncheonette, they had talked about baseball, and now, each time Quinn came in, they continued to talk about it. In the winter, the talk was of trades, predictions, memories. During the season, it was always the most recent game. They were both Mets fans, and the hopelessness of that passion had created a bond between them.
Paul AusterTag: baseball sports hopelessness
Stories happen only to those who are able to tell them, someone once said. In the same way, perhaps, experiences present themselves only to those who are able to have them.
Paul AusterMR. BONES KNEW THAT WILLY WASN'T LONG FOR THIS WORLD. The cough had been inside him for over six months, and by now there wasn't a chance in hell that he would ever get rid of it. Slowly and inexorably, without once taking a turn for the better, the thing had assumed a life of its own, advancing from a faint, phlegm-filled rattle in the lungs on February third to the wheezy sputum-jigs and gobby convulsions of high summer. All that was bad enough, but in the past two weeks a new tonality had crept into the bronchial music - something tight and flinty and percussive - and the attacks came now so often as to be almost constant. Every time one of them started, Mr. Bones half expected Willy's body to explode from the rockets of pressure bursting agaisnt his rib cage. He figured that blood would be the next step and when that fatal moment finally occurred on Saturday afternoon, it was as if all the angels in heaven had opened their mouths and started to sing. Mr. Bones saw it happen with his own eyes, standing by the edge of the road between Washington and Baltimore as Willy hawked up a few miserable clots of red matter into his handkerchief, and right then and there he knew that every ounce of hope was gone. The smell of death had settled upon Willy G. Christmas, and as surely as the sun was a lamp in the clouds that went off and on everyday, the end was drawing near.
What was a poor dog to do? Mr. Bones had been with Willy since his earliest days as a pup, and by now it was next to impossible to imagine a world that did not have his master in it. Every thought, every memory, every particle of the earth and air was saturated with Willy's presence. Habits die hard, and no doubt there's some truth to the adage about old dogs and new tricks, but it was more than just love or devotion that caused Mr. Bones to dread what was coming. It was pure ontological terror. Substract Willy from the world, and the odds were that the world itself would cease to exist.
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