— I’ve seen things… you people wouldn’t believe…
— Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion
— And watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate…
— All those… moments will be lost… in time… like tears…in rain
— Time…to die.
— Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion
— And watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser gate…
— All those… moments will be lost… in time… like tears…in rain
— Time…to die.
1 comment:
I believe that today more than ever a book should be sought after even if it has only one great page in it: we must search for fragments, splinters, toenails, anything that has ore in it, anything that is capable of resuscitating the body and soul. It may be that we are doomed, that there is no hope for us, any of us, but if that is so then let us set up a last agonizing, bloodcurdling howl, a screech of defiance, a war whoop! Away with lamentation! Away with elegies and dirges! Away with biographies and histories, and libraries and museums! Let the dead eat the dead. Let us living ones dance about the rim of the crater, a last expiring dance. But a dance!
Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, 1934
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