I felt his hot tears and the loneliness of man and the sweetness of all men and the aching haunting beauty of the living — John Fante Copy Share Image
“ Breakfast was ready. He could hear his father asking for coffee. Why did his father have to yell all the time? Couldn't he talk… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“Jesus, these Protestants! In my church we didn't sing cheap hymns. With us it was Handel and Palestrina.” — John Fante Copy Share Image
If there is work there is warmth, that when a man has freedom of movement it is enough, for then his blood is hot… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“I have seen them stagger out of their movie palaces and blink their empty eyes in the face of reality once more, and stagger… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“My advice to all young writers is quite simple. I would caution them never to evade a new experience. I would urge them to… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“Then it happened. One night as the rain beat on the slanted kitchen roof a great spirit slipped forever into my life. I held… — John Fante Copy Share Image
Well, this is good for me, this is experience, I am here for a reason, these moments run into pages, the seamy side of… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“She was a hunchback with a sweet smile. She smiled sweetly at anything; she couldn't help it; the trees, me, the grass, anything. The… — John Fante Copy Share Image
I tossed my shoulders and swaggered away, whistling with pleasure. In the gutter I saw a long cigaret butt. I picked it up without… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“Careful, Arturo Bandini: don't strain your eyesight, remember what happened to Tarkington, remember what happened to James Joyce.” — John Fante Copy Share Image
“Nor did he give a damn for the world either, or the universe, or heaven or hell. But he liked women.” — John Fante Copy Share Image
The bible is a source of great inspiration to me. It is a textbook of metaphysics. Within the bible are keys to personal growth,… — John Fante Copy Share Image
One night I was sitting on the bed in my hotel room on Buker Hill, down in the middle of Los Angeles. It was… — John Fante Copy Share Image
“All that was good in me thrilled in my heart at that moment, all that I hoped for in the profound, obscure meaning of… — John Fante Copy Share Image
(...) I let go, crying and unable to stop because God was such a dirty crook, contemptible skunk, that's what he was for doing… — John Fante Copy Share Image
