« Misère ! Maintenant il dit : Je sais les choses, Et va, les yeux fermés et les oreilles closes. »

• mardi 14 décembre 2010 • Laisser un commentaire

« Et j’irai loin, bien loin, comme un bohémien »

• vendredi 19 novembre 2010 • Laisser un commentaire

« Le doute est le pire de tous les maux, car il les suppose tous »

• dimanche 12 septembre 2010 • Laisser un commentaire

« She was forcing it with her scorn, the kiss she gave me, the hard curl of her lips, the mockery of her eyes, until I was like a man made of wood and there was no feeling within me except terror and a fear of her, a sense that her beauty was too much, that she was so much more beautiful than I, deeper rooted than I. She made me a stranger unto myself, she was all of those calm nights and tall eucalyptus trees, the desert stars, that land and sky, that fog outside, and I had come there with no purpose save to be a mere writer, to get money, to make a name for myself and all that piffle. She was so much finer than I, so much more honest, that I was sick of myself and I could not look at her warm eyes, I suppressed the shiver brought on by her brown arms around my neck and the long fingers in my hair. I did not kiss her. She kissed me, author of The Little Dog Laughed. Then she took my wrist with her two hands. She pressed her lips into the palm of my hand. She placed my hand upon her bosom between her breasts. She turned her lips towards my face and waited. And Arturo Bandini, the great author dipped deep into his colourful imagination, romantic Arturo Bandini, just chock-full of clever phrases, and he said, weakly, kittenishly, ‘Hello. »

• mercredi 8 septembre 2010 • Laisser un commentaire

Des flots bleus, fleur de chair que la vague parfume,

• dimanche 22 août 2010 • Laisser un commentaire

Dans un monde en noir et blanc, seules les étoiles sont en couleur

• dimanche 13 décembre 2009 • Laisser un commentaire