The morning’s recollection of the emptiness of the day before. Its anticipation of the emptiness of the day to come.

The morning’s recollection of the emptiness of the day before. Its anticipation of the emptiness of the day to come.

Can Protagonist think of a single film that interests him as much as the three-hundredth best book he ever read?

You can learn more by going to the opera than you ever can by reading Emerson. Like that there are two sexes.

Was it really some other person I was so anxious to discover...or was it only my own solitude that I could not abide?

Once, Turner had himself lashed to the mast of a ship for several hours, during a furious storm, so that he could later paint the storm. Obviously, it was not the storm itself that Turner intended to paint. What he intended to paint was a representation of the storm. One's language is frequently imprecise in that manner, I have discovered.

In fact one frequently seemed to gather all sorts of similar information about subjects one had less than profound interest in.