People hurried past, the others of the street, endless anonymous, twenty-one lives per second, race-walking in their faces and pigments, sprays of fleetest being.
Don DeLilloAt night the sky was very near, sprawled in star smoke and gamma cataclysms, but she didn't see it the way she used to, as soul extension, dumb guttural wonder, a thing that lived outside language in the oldest part of her.
Don DeLilloOnly a catastrophe gets our attention. We want them, we depend on them. As long as they happen somewhere else.
Don DeLilloI've always seen myself in sentences. I begin to recognize myself, word by word, as I work through a sentence.
Don DeLillo