(...)
And back at the Wilshire, Pedro sits there dreaming
he's found a book on magic in a garbage can
He looks at the pictures and stares at the cracked ceiling
"At the count of 3" he says, "I hope I can disappear"
And fly fly away, from this dirty boulevard
I want to fly, from dirty boulevard
I want to fly, from dirty boulevard
I want to fly-fly-fly-fly, from dirty boulevard (...)
"Separated lovers cheat absence by a thousand fancies which have their own reality. They are prevented from seeing one another and they cannot write; nevertheless they find countless mysterious ways of corresponding, by sending each other the song of birds, the scent of flowers, the laughter of children, the light of the sun, the sighing of the wind, and the gleam of the stars -all the beauties of creation."
(Victor Hugo)
"Hell's afloat in lovers' tears. "
(Dorothy Parker)
"Os grandes olhos abrem-se ainda e se tornam úmidos, banhados de lágrimas próximas, enquanto a boca se entreabre mais... Corinto não pode se impedir de beijá-la nos lábios de polpa trêmula, entregues por ela, rosto perturbado, que se mexem com doçura como se bebessem mel."
(Robbe-Grillet)
he sits among the rest, buried in his seat. the clatter of the crowd is drowning out his speech. he turns to look at us, a mirror burned in deep. he wonders who you are, you wonder what he means. we are the matched and numbered ones. we have been placed in all their codes. you may be blessed by your own, you may be blessed by your own ghost. she makes the driver blush with pains of tongues and knees. she opens up the car leaving air to breathe. the moments all messed up with lanes that bleed in sheets that cover up our tracks and lead us to her keep. we are the matched and numbered ones who live in constant disrepair. you may be blessed by your own, you may be blessed by your own ghost. here i'm stressing over fallen angels with cause to cover. we are the matched and numbered ones who live in constant disrepair. you may be blessed by your own, you may be blessed by your own ghost.
Came from the skies
Burst through the gates
With no mercy or disguise
With their hearts set out in flames
I know; I’ve seen the masterplan...
Well I’m just a man
(I am just a man)
I’m not giving in
All the people understand
’Cos they all fell down and prayed
I know;
I’ve seen the masterplan:
(...)
Came from the skies
(Came from the skies)
In all shades of green
We can always justify
We can measure up your dreams
I know;
I’ve seen the masterplan(...)
"Every part of his day, divided by what he regarded now as the duties of his station in life, circled about its own centre of spiritual energy. His life seemed to have drawn near to eternity; every thought, word, and deed, every instance of consciousness could be made to revibrate radiantly in heaven; and at times his sense of such immediate repercussion was so lively that he seemed to feel his soul in devotion pressing like fingers the keyboard of a great cash register and to see the amount of his purchase start forth immediately in heaven, not as a number but as a frail column of incense or as a slender flower. " (J.J)
El fama considera al cronopio. Nunca hablará hasta no saber que sus palabras son las que convienen, temeroso de que las esperanzas siempre alertas no se deslicen en el aire, esos microbios relucientes, y por una palabra equivocada invadan el corazón bondadoso del cronopio. (Cortázar)
There was a boy,
a very small enchated boy.
They say he wandered very far, very far,
over land and sea.
A little shy and sad of eye,
but very wise was he.
And then one day.
One magic day he came my way.
And as we spoke of many things,
fools and kings,
this he said to me.
The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be loved in return.
"There's an old joke. Uh, two elderly women are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of 'em says: "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know, and such ... small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life. Full of loneliness and misery and suffering and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly. The-the other important joke for me is one that's, uh, usually attributed to Groucho Marx, but I think it appears originally in Freud's wit and its relation to the unconscious. And it goes like this-I'm paraphrasing: Uh ... "I would never wanna belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member." That's the key joke of my adult life in terms of my relationships with women."
"...I-I thought of that old joke, you know, this-this-this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, "Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken." And, uh, the doctor says, "Well, why don't you turn him in?" And the guy says, "I would, but I need the eggs." Well, I guess that's pretty much how how I feel about
relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and ... but, uh, I guess we keep goin' through it because, uh, most of us need the eggs."
