5 may. 2013

De mis últimas lecturas.



Memory
por Louis MacMaster Bujould

-The last thing a monster wanted was a fellow to follow him around all day long with a mirror.

-Did he seek healing or destruction? Either. It was this formless state in between that was unbearable.

-Then she said, "You go on. You just go on. There´s nothing more to it, and there´s no trick to make it easier. You just go on."
          "What do you find in the other side? When you go on?"
          She shrugged. "Your life again. What else?"
          "Is that a promise?"
          She picked up a pebble, fingered it, and tossed it into the water. The moon-lines bloomed and danced. "It´s an inevitability. No trick. No choice. You just go on."

-"Some fellows you have to hit with a brick to get their attention. some you have to hit with a big brick."

-"Impulse," Miles broke his own silence, "does work as slowly as that sometimes. Particularly when you´re having a really bad idea." I should know.

-There was something universal, Miles reflected, about the sinister light in the eye of a mother with a long list of chores in her hand.

-"Yes. That´s just exactly right. I can go on with you. I can go on without you, if i have to. But i can´t freeze, Elli, not even for you. Perfect preservation isn´t life, it´s death. I know."

-"But i´m not my father. I don´t have to repeat his mistakes; I can invent bright-new ones."






The Yiddish Policemen´s Union
por Michael Chabon

-The daily sight of her is going to be torment, like God torturing Moses with a glimpse of Zion from the top of Mount Pisgah every single day of his life.

-Miracles prove nothing except to those whose faith is bought very cheap, sir.

-If he let her go, he will never lie in the hollow of her breast, asleep. He will never sleep again without the help of a handful of Nembutal or the good offices of his chopped M-39.

-She puts a hand to his mouth. She has not touched him in three years. It probably would be too much to say that he feels the darkness lift at the touch of her fingertips against his lips. But it shivers, and light bleeds in among the cracks.

-Once Bina Gelbfish believed in Meyer Landsman. Or she believed, from the moment she met him, that there was a sense in that meeting, that some detectable intention lay behind their marriage. They were twisted like a pair of chromosomes, of course they were, but where Landsman saw in that twisting together only a tangle, a chance snarling of lines, Bina saw the hand of the Maker of Knots. And for her faith, Landsman repaid her with his faith in Nothing itself.

-"My Saturday night. My Saturday night is like a microwave burrito. Very tough to ruin something that starts out so bad to begin with."

-"And what am I supposed to do now, besides be grateful for having my balls cut off?"
"That´s up to you, Detective. maybe you could try thinking about the future for a change."
"The future," Landsman says. "You mean, what, like flying cars? Hotels on the moon?" 
"I mean your future."
"You want to go to the moon with me, Bina? I hear they still take jews."