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Quote by Chuck Palahniuk

“It's called a culling song. In some ancient culture, they sang it to children during famines or droughts, anytime the tribe had outgrown its land. It was sung to warriors injured in accidents or the very old or anyone dying. It was used to end misery and pain. It's a lullaby.”

Quote by Chuck Palahniuk

Book:Lullaby

Work

Lullaby

In Lullaby, the reader is drawn into a narrative that weaves together the intricate tapestry of human emotions. The story delves into the complexities of relationships and the enduring power of memories. As the characters navigate through life's joys and sorrows, the reader is treated to a moving exploration of the human condition. more

Author

Chuck Palahniuk
Chuck Palahniuk

Chuck Palahniuk is a renowned American novelist known for his distinctive narrative style and profound psychological portrayals. His works often delve into the dark side of human nature and the absurdity of society, with notable titles including 'Fight Club' and 'Choke'. more

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“And on that evening when we grow older still we'll speak about these two young men as though they were two strangers we met on the train and whom we admire and want to help along. And we'll want to call it envy, because to call it regret would break our hearts.' Silence again. 'Perhaps I am not yet ready to speak of them as strangers,' I said. 'If it makes you feel any better, I don't think either of us ever will be.”

“All these years, whenever I thought of him, I'd think either of B. or of our last days in Rome, the whole thing leading up to two scenes: the balcony with its attendant agonies and via Santa Maria dell' Anima, where he'd pushed me against the old wall and kissed me and in the end let me put one leg around his. Every time I go back to Rome, I go back to that one spot. It is still alive for me, still resounds with something totally present, as though a heart stolen from a tale by Poe still throbbed under the ancient slate pavement to remind me that, here, I had finally encountered the life that was right for me but had failed to have.”

“But this thing that almost never was still beckons, I wanted to tell him. They can never undo it, never unwrite it, never unlive it, or relive it—it's just stuck there like a vision of fireflies on a summer field toward evening that keeps saying, You could have had this instead. But going back is false. Moving ahead is false. Looking the other way is false. Trying to redress all that is false turns out to be just as false. Their life is like a garbled echo buried for all time in a sealed Mithraic chamber.”

“There is a spot on via Santa Maria dell' Anima that I revisit every time I'm in Rome. I'll stare at it for a second, and suddenly it'll all come back to me. I had just thrown up that night and on the way back to the bar you kissed me. People kept walking by but I didn't care, nor did you. That kiss is still imprinted there, thank goodness. It's all I have from you. This and your shirt.”