Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn't have a happy ending - but which of ours does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now.
Stephenie MeyerAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer
- Nationality: american
- Born: December 24, 1973
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First they came for the communists, and I did not speak ou? because I was not a communist; Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak ou? because I was not a socialist; Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak ou? because I was not a trade unionist; Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak ou? because I was not a Jew; Then they came for m? and there was no one left to speak out for me.
Martin Niemoller
We're all dreaming? Arctor said. If the last to know he's an addict is the addict, then maybe the last to know when a man means what he says is the man himself, he reflected. He wondered how much of the garbage that Donna had overheard he had seriously meant. He wondered how much of the insanity of the day--his insanity--had been real, or just induced as a contact lunacy, by the situation. Donna, always, was a pivot point of reality for him; for her this was the basic, natural question. He...
Philip K. Dick
Ah genclik! Genclik! Pervasizca, umursamadan gidiyorsun kendi yolunda-dnyanin btn hazineleri seninmi gibi; keder bile seni umutlandryor, ac bile alnna ok gzel oturuyor. zgvenli ve kstahsn ve "sadece ben canlym, bakn!" diyorsun. Kendi gnlerin hzla uup, hibir iz brakmadan yok olur ve iinmdeki her ey gnein altnda eriyip giderken bile mum gibi... kar gibi.. ve belki de senin sihrinin btn srr istediin her eyi yapabilme gcnde deil, yapmayacan hibir ey olmadn dnme gcnde sakl.(lk Ak-Turgenyev)
Ivan Turgenev
Trying to exhaust himself, Vaughan devised an endless almanac of terrifying wounds and insane collisions: The lungs of elderly men punctured by door-handles; the chests of young women impaled on steering-columns; the cheek of handsome youths torn on the chromium latches of quarter-lights. To Vaughan, these wounds formed the key to a new sexuality, born from a perverse technology. The images of these wounds hung in the gallery of his mind, like exhibits in the museum of a slaughterhouse.
J. G. Ballard
