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Quote by David Sinclair

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Without the Mob, There Is No Circus

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David Sinclair

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“He can remind himself that all beauty in plants and animals is a quiet and durable form of love and longing, and he can see the animal, as also the plant, patiently and willingly joining and multiplying and growing, not from physical pleasure, not from physical suffering, but bowing to necessities which are greater than pleasure and pain and more powerful than desire and resistance. Oh if only mankind could embrace this mystery, which penetrates the earth right into its smallest elements, with more humility, and bear and sustain it with more gravity and know how terribly heavy it is, instead of taking it lightly.”

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Book:Letters to a Young Poet
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“Gracie's first thought was that it was unfair a man should have such a sinfully beautiful mouth. Her next was that it was made for seduction and unspeakable delights. And her third was that it was made for despair—for despair was what she could not help but feel as she stared at this young man, who seemed a strange and uncanny reflection of herself. Not only a more perfect specimen of manhood than she could ever pretend to be in her feigned garb, but a man who reflected her very soul back to her without even seeming to realize it, more herself than she was, yet in the way that fire complimented frost, or the ocean reflected the stars.”

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Book:Once Upon a Midwinter's Kiss
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“Life, strangely enough, is constantly being reinvented, and loved, even though a tinfoil brain will bring forth crumpled images, and a trampled torso will ooze misery. And yet, it is still a beautiful thing when a man abandons his three square meals a day and his adding machine and his family and goes off to follow a beautiful star. Life is still magnificent as long as one maintains the illusion that an entire world can be conjured from a tiny patch of earth.”

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Book:Mr. Kafka and Other Tales from the Time of the Cult
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“Beautiful blueberry nights fill my liver with morning and the nozzle of my heart spews forth an amalgam of blood. The sun rides the elevator up from the darkness, and the silken, waving wheat sways like a woman's raw cotton skirt. The wheels of the pit-head elevator turn backward, and columns of cherry-tree trunks girdled with white lime reveal the hidden location of military burial grounds. Watchmen guard the female convicts in their wire enclosure, and swallows deliver the message of violins in their beaks.”

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Author:Bohumil Hrabal
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