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Wittgenstein9

I really do think with my pen, for my head often knows nothing of what my hand is writing. MS 112 114:27.10.1931


Christianity is not a doctrine, not, I mean, a theory about what has happened & will happen to the human soul, but a description of something that actually takes place in human life. For ‘recognition of sin’ is an actual occurrence & so is despair & so is redemption through faith. Those who speak of it (like Bunyan), are simply describing what has happened to them; whatever gloss someone may want to put on it! MS 118 56r c: 4.9.1937


If I am thinking just for myself without wanting to write a book, I jump all around the topic; that is the only way of thinking that is natural to me. Forcing my thoughts into an ordered sequence is a torment for me. Should I even attempt it now??

squander untold effort making an arrangement of my thoughts that may have no value whatsoever. MS 118 94v c: 15.9.1937


One cannot speak the truth; – if one has not yet conquered oneself. One cannot speak it – but not, because one is still not clever enough.

The truth can be spoken only by someone who is already at home in it; not by someone who still lives in untruthfulness, & does not more than reach out towards it from within untruthfulness. MS 162b 37r c: 1939-1940


Resting on your laurels is as dangerous as resting when hiking through snow. You doze off & die in your sleep. MS 162b 42v c: 1939-1940


Thoughts at peace. That is the goal someone who philosophizes longs for. MS 127 41v: 4.3.1944


Words are deeds. MS 179 27: ca. 1945


If people did not sometimes commit stupidities, nothing intelligent at all would ever happen. MS 131 219: 8.9.1946

Haruki Murakami

“When I’m writing novels, reality and unreality just naturally get mixed together. It’s not as if that was my plan and I’m following it as I write, but the more I try to write about reality in a realistic way, the more the unreal world invariably emerges. For me, a novel is like a party. Anybody who wants to join in can join in, and those who wish to leave can do so whenever they want. I think novels get their driving force from that sense of freedom.”

— The New Yorker

samuelbeckett-nursinghome

“Samuel Beckett kept a copy of The Divine Comedy by his bedside as he lay dying in a Paris hospice in 1989. Oxygen canisters stood nearby for his emphysema but, immersed in Dante, he appeared to be ‘having fun’, remembered the poet Derek Mahon (who visited him a month before he died at the age of 83).”

The Irish Times

The Guardian reviews Newcomer by Keigo Higashino, Still Lives by Maria Hummel, The Stranger Diaries by Ellie Griffiths, A House of Ghosts by WC Ryan, Five Days of Fog by Anna Freeman and The Long Shadow by Celia Fremlin.