ordinary eternal machinery

like the grinding of the stars
My experience has taught me to believe in the unintended continuation of a provisional state, in the indestructibility of things randomly thrown together. WAITING FOR THE DOG TO SLEEP by jerzy ficowski
I reckon that’s the bad part of whiskey, you know?—the bad part about a lot of things. Not the indulging of ‘em, but the not being able to indulge. The afterwards, when the ol’ familiar taste of piss is back in your mouth, and you want to spit it out at everyone. POP. 1280 by jim thompson
She took a perverse pleasure in the retrospective disparagement of her felicity, in laying waste to her memories. The moon, the dark and perfumed garden, the huge black tree and its velvet shadow on the lawn… She denied them, she rejected the happiness which they symbolized in her memory. POINT COUNTER POINT by aldous huxley
He resisted her at first, refused to go, demanded to stay. Now that there was no danger of his having to stay, he could afford to insist. For Marjorie, it was clear, was serious in her determination that he should go. It was an opportunity for him to be noble and self-sacrificing at a cheap rate, gratis even. What an odious comedy! But he played it. POINT COUNTER POINT by aldous huxley
Now and then my friends stop by, all gotten up as young eccentrics with their beards and bicycles, and down they go into the Quarter to hear some music and find some whores and still I wish them well. As for me, I stay home with Mrs Schexnaydre and turn on TV. Not that I like TV so much, but it doesn’t distract me from the wonder. That is why I can’t go to the trouble they go to. It is distracting, and not for five minutes will I be distracted from the wonder. THE MOVIEGOER by walker percy
I hold springtime in my arms, the fullness of it and the rinsing sadness of it. THE MOVIEGOER by walker percy
In the end, each life is no more than the sum of contingent facts, a chronicle of chance intersections, of flukes, of random events that divulge nothing but their own lack of purpose. THE LOCKED ROOM by paul auster
Then it was that the thought of death burst into my daily life. I would measure the years separating me from my end. I would look for examples of men my age who were already dead. And I was tormented by the thought that I might not have time to accomplish my task. What task? I had no idea. THE FALL by albert camus
story of my life

story of my life

And sometimes it seemed that something never seen yet long desired was about to happen, that a veil would drop from it all; but then it passed, nothing happened, the riddle remained unsolved, the secret spell unbroken, and in the end one grew old and looked cunning like Father Anselm or wise like Abbot Daniel, and still one knew nothing perhaps, was still waiting and listening. NARCISSUS AND GOLDMUND by hermann hesse