The Mooreeffoc

"The queerness of things that have become trite, when they are seen suddenly from a new angle." - G. K. Chesterton

(Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.)

Sections in the bookstore
-Books You Haven’t Read
-Books You Needn’t Read
-Books Made for Purposes Other Than Reading
-Books Read Even Before You Open Them Since They Belong to the Category of Books Read Before Being Written
-Books That If You Had More Than One Life You Would Certainly Read But Unfortunately Your Days Are Numbered
-Books You Mean to Read But There Are Others You Must Read First
-Books Too Expensive Now and You’ll Wait Till They’re Remaindered
-Books ditto When They Come Out in Paperback
-Books You Can Borrow from Somebody
-Books That Everybody’s Read So It’s As If You Had Read Them Too
-Books You’ve Been Planning to Read for Ages
-Books You’ve Been Hunting for Years Without Success
-Books Dealing with Something You’re Working on at the Moment
-Books You Want to Own So They’ll Be Handy Just in Case
-Books You Could Put Aside Maybe to Read This Summer
-Books You Need to Go with Other Books on Your Shelves
-Books That Fill You with Sudden, Inexplicable,Curiosity, Not Easily Justified
-Books Read Long Ago Which It’s Now Time To Re-Read
-Books You’ve Always Pretended to Have Read and Now It’s Time to Sit Down and Really Read Them
— Italo Calvino, If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler

(Source: confusing-and-lovable)

She had the perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very, dangerous to live even one day.
— Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway
Droll thing life is — that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself — that comes too late — a crop of inextinguishable regrets.
— Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores View high resolution

Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores

(Source: aseaofquotes, via hermioneandthegrangers)

His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul.
— J.M. Coetzee, Disgrace

That time was like never, and like always. 
So we go there, where nothing is waiting; 
we find everything waiting there.


Pablo Neruda View high resolution
That time was like never, and like always. 
So we go there, where nothing is waiting; 
we find everything waiting there.
Pablo Neruda

(via redvelvetteacake)

There was another world below—this was the problem. Another world below that had volume but no form. By day the sea was blue surface and whitecaps, a realistic navigational challenge, and the problem could be overlooked. By night, though, the mind went forth and dove down through the yielding—the violently lonely—nothingness on which the heavy steel ship traveled, and in every moving swell you saw a travesty of grids, you saw how truly and forever lost a man would be six fathoms under. Dry land lacked this z-axis. Dry land was like being awake. Even in the chartless desert you could drop to your knees and pound land with your fist and land didn’t give. Of course, the ocean too had a skin of wakefulness. But every point on this skin was a point where you could sink and by sinking disappear.
— Jonathan Franzen, The Corrections
A pair of wings, a different respiratory system, which enabled us to travel through space, would in no way help us, for if we visited Mars or Venus while keeping the same senses, they would clothe everything we could see in the same aspect as the things of Earth. The only true voyage, the only bath in the Fountain of Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to see the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is; and this we can do with an Elstir, with a Vinteuil; with men like these we do really fly from star to star.
Marcel Proust, The Captive & The Fugitive: In Search of Lost Time, Vol. V
I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.
— Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
And I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.
— William Faulkner, The Sound and the Fury

(Source: deaths-and-entrances, via tresclassy)