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Quote by Jasper Fforde

“All of everything came into existence simply because it wanted to be. The big bang wasn't so much a big bang as a hasty dash toward an opportunity to trade nothingness for somethingness. The main contributory factor to the entire universe was a momentary effect in need of a cause.”

Quote by Jasper Fforde

Work

The Woman Who Died a Lot

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Author

Jasper Fforde
Jasper Fforde

Jasper Fforde is a British novelist known for his unique sense of humor and his skillful blending of reality and fantasy. His works are characterized by complex narrative structures and rich imagination, which have won him a wide readership. more

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“When i remember your name i know you are my hope. for what ? not for love... 'cause i know you can't love me. but i know you are my hope for... Life. Just remembering your smile... i know you are my world you shaping my world that became like this... you are my story Not to be told, But to remember... i love you and... I miss you now i miss my world i miss your face, your smile and your voice I miss you more than anyone that I've ever met -For Enno Indi WP-”

“Kaiverrat sormesi niskaani ja harot hiuksiini, kourasi harhailevat selkääni pitkin alas ja kyljen läpi vatsalle, annat kovaksi paisuneen ikäväsi kämmeneeni ja ihooni kaikkialle pujotat arvoituksellisia kuvioita kysyvin, kuuntelevin sormin, apua, katso, sinä, minä, sinä minä se olen, pelkkää raivoisaa janoa, epätoivoista hakemista, kolkutusta, kunnes hukumme toisiimme.”

“And in fact the artist's experience lies so unbelievably close to the sexual, to its pain and its pleasure, that the two phenomena are really just different forms of one and the same longing and bliss. And if instead of "heat" one could say "sex";- sex in the great, pure sense of the word, free of any sin attached to it by the Church, - then his art would be very great and infinitely important. His poetic power is great and as strong as a primal instinct; it has its own relentless rhythms in itself and explodes from him like a volcano.”

“For all her culture's attention to the physical, it seemingly has little to salve the creatural anguish of losing someone else's body, their touch, their heat, their oceanic heart...she doesn't want another body, she wants the body she loved, the forceps scar across his cheek that she traced with her hand, his penis, its elegant sweep to the side, the preternaturally soft skin. One wants what one has loved, not the idea of love.”