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Quote by Thomas Pynchon

“Параноята е чесънът в кухнята на живота, винаги можеш да сложиш още малко, нали?”

Quote by Thomas Pynchon

Book:Bleeding Edge
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Bleeding Edge

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Author

Thomas Pynchon
Thomas Pynchon

Thomas Pynchon is an American novelist born on May 8, 1937. His works are known for their complex narrative structures, rich symbolism, and profound social criticism. His representative works include 'The Crying of Lot 49' and 'Gravity's Rainbow'. more

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“Kekulému se zdá o Velkém hadovi, který drží v tlamě svůj vlastní ocas, snící Had, který obklopuje Svět. Ale ta lakota, ten cynismus, se kterou tento sen bude využit. Had, který oznamuje „Svět je uzavřená věc, cyklická, rezonující, věčně se vracející,“ bude doručen do Systému, jehož jediným cílem je narušit Cyklus. Systém, který bere a nevrací, který požaduje, aby se „produktivita“ a „zisky“ v čase neustále zvyšovaly, odčerpává ze zbytku světa obrovské množství energie, aby udržel svůj maličký zoufalý podíl na zisku: a ne jen většina lidstva – ale i většina Světa, zvířat, rostlin a minerálů je v tomto procesu odhozena jako odpad. Systém může a nemusí rozumět tomu, že si pouze kupuje čas. A že čas je především příliš umělý zdroj, který nemá cenu pro nikoho jiného kromě Systému, jenž dříve nebo později musí ztroskotat a zahynout, až jeho závislost na energii překročí množství, které mu svět může poskytnout, a stáhne s sebou nevinné duše na celém řetězci života.”

PynchončEskyGravity S Rainbow
Author:Thomas Pynchon
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“- С двете момчета не е същото - кима Максин, - но понякога се чудя какво би било, ако имах дъщеря. - Ами вземи си роди, още си хлапе. - Да, лошото е, че и Хорст е. Както и всеки друг, с когото съм излизала. - О, де да можеше да видиш бившия ми. Сидни. Нестабилни юноши от цялата страна идваха на поклонение до къщи само за да вдишат от издишания от него цигарен дим и да си сверят настройките. - Той е още... - Жив и здрав. Ако някога умре, ще е доста неприятно изненадан.”

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Book:Bleeding Edge
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“Is no revenge of the nerds, you know what, last year when everything collapsed, all it meant was the nerds lost out once again and the jocks won. Same as always ... Some of the quants are smart, but quants come, quants go, they're just nerds for hire with a different fashion sense. The jocks may not know a stochastic crossover if it bites them on the ass, but they have that drive to thrive, they're synced in to them deep market rhythms, and that'll always beat out nerditude no matter how smart it gets.”

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Book:Bleeding Edge
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“I want to see the front of you.” “That’s what all the girls say.” “Do you expect me to roll you over? ’Cuz I will.” “Your mate’s not going to like this.” “As if that’s going to bother you?” “True. It actually makes it worth the effort.” With a groan, he shoved his palms into the shimmering silver pool of blood beneath him, and flopped over like the side of beef he was. “Wow,” she breathed. “I know, right? Hung like a horse.” “If you’re really nice—and you live through this—I’ll promise not to tell V.” “About my size.” She laughed a little. “No, that you assumed I’d look at you in any fashion other than professionally.”

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Book:Lover Reborn
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“Lassiter skidded in from the billiards room, the fallen angel glowing from his black-and-blond hair and white eyes, all the way down to his shitkickers. Then again, maybe the illumination wasn’t his nature, but that gold he insisted on wearing. He looked like a living, breathing jewelry tree. “I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?” “Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.” The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” “Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.” Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual. “Are you serious?” Butch said. Like the guy had maybe volunteered for a lobotomy. Or a limb amputation. Or a pedicure. “No fucking way,” V echoed. “When and where did you become a friend of the enemy—” The angel held up his palms. “It’s not my fault you guys suck—” Tohr actually stepped in front of Lassiter, like he was worried that something a lot more than smack talk was going to start flying. And the sad thing was, he was right to be concerned. Apart from their shellans, V and Butch loved the Sox above almost everything else—including sanity.”

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Book:Lover at Last
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