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Quote by Jonathan Safran Foer

“But that slip of paper wouldn't disappear, ever, and neither would the image of his prostrate wife, and neither would the thought that if he could, it might greatly improve his life to end it.”

Quote by Jonathan Safran Foer

Author

Jonathan Safran Foer
Jonathan Safran Foer

Jonathan Safran Foer is an American writer known for his unique narrative style and profound insights into social issues. His works often blend historical, literary, and philosophical elements, exploring themes such as family, memory, and identity. more

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“If one does not have the basic conscientious capacity to refute the primitive textual verses of the scriptures that demand one to kill or torture another being for holding a different belief system than one's own, then that entity is no being of the civilized human society, it is merely a pest from the stone-age.”

“That instant proved to me that it was not the first, almost unemotional, sighting of a potential lover that was significant, but the second, the moment not of recognition but of confirmation, so that every other consideration is irrelevant, as if it might have mattered at some point in the past but no longer had any currency in the charged wordless exchange that seals the matter for ever, regardless of the dangers thus incurred and whatever the cost.”

“Mais elle sait que rien ne sera plus pareil, plus d'interdit, fini le frisson du mensonge qui écrase l'échine et réveille l'envie malsaine où les visages se superposent, plus de doigts qu'on hume le soir en cachette en cherchant l'odeur des sexes mêlés de l'après-midi avant de les cacher sous l'oreiller, dos à son mari. Elle s’est crue perverse et habile, cruelle, manipulatrice enfin, mais ce soir, au dernier acte, le reste de la nuit va tomber sur Paris et la scène minable, rétrécie, de sa si banale histoire de cul. (p.14)”

“I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. OTHELLO: Oh, ay, as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell’st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born! DESDEMONA: Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? OTHELLO: Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write “whore” upon?”