I don’t know why they call it rape. To me it was murder. I was killed that day and I’ve had to drag death around in me ever since, a roaming greyness in my colourful interior, sometimes it’s my stomach that’s dead, sometimes my head, sometimes my intestines, often my heart.
—Yann Martel: Self
We see God and the devil making fools of each other, and we nurture in ourselves the absolutely unshakable conviction that both of them are drunk.
-Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening
The art we need is the art of bearing the unbearable. — Thomas Bernhard
and when everything’s in order I’ll lie down on my back again, warm my bones on the decay, and smile…
—Spring Awakening, Frank Wedekind (via kampfmude)
I worry I broke your kneecaps when I cut you down. I keep hearing that sound.
The policeman asks, Why did I cut you down. The question abides in the present tense. Because I thought and still think maybe.
—Karen Green: Bough Down
Mozart’s foster parents put cigarettes out in his ears
When he got old enough to stutter, he said
“I don’t listen but I-I-I, I can hear”