“Hong Kong, please watch over him, he saw that young man Lazaro in a dream and is convinced he’s a terrorist, always has been, and I should never have let him into the house that day with the tray of… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share
“any moment now that sun would burst into a ball of flame, a furnace to stifle the heart of Petites Cendres, his soul felt blood-raw, liquefied deep down inside him, in a pale, cold sea where the need that gnawed at him would break your heart, a fire burnt out, his heart, that dog should not have been there on… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share
“Hong Kong, please watch over him, he saw that young man Lazaro in a dream and is convinced he’s a terrorist, always has been, and I should never have let him into the house that day with the tray of seafood I’d ordered; this anxiety gives him abominable, uncontrollable thoughts, but the analyst told me to look at it differently,… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share
“so many white roses whose names won’t survive either, resistance groups and newspapers now as forgotten as soldiers waiting for the enemy veiled in snow, unknowingly digging their own graves in the forests, an entire infantry on alert among the pines and spruce, France, Belgium, elsewhere young German soldiers seeming to sleep, half-opened lips on the snow which likewise moulds… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share
“People who love as you do, with that plentitude and fire, always forget what others experience. The lover is not the one to be pitied: he quenches his thirst with his own pain, his own fire feeds him; but the loved one is like dry cracked ground that we ask to produce fountains and lakes; he receives all the offerings… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share
“I drink to the health of the child prodigy who finally met the gentleman with the golden ass. Vive little Sébastien, he’ll grow up.… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share Image
“When there is no bread and even when there is we should eat our fill of one another.” — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share Image
“him the ordinary man whose Buddhist spirituality often flickered, really just questing for inner silence with not too much of an outer mess, although… — Marie-Claire Blais Copy Share Image
