It all comes down, as it must, to the desires of individual men. Oh, and women too of course, bless their empty… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
What sort of an age is this where a man becomes one's enemy only when his back is turned? — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
In the eighteenth century it was often convenient to regard man as a clockwork automaton. In the nineteenth century, with Newtonian physics… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
What, I should only trust good people? Man, good people get bought and sold every day. Might as well trust somebody evil… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
All the animals, the plants, the minerals, even other kinds of men, are being broken and reassembled every day, to preserve an… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
So generation after generation of men in love with pain and passivity serve out their time in the Zone, silent, redolent of… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
Life's single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
I was dreaming ... about my grandfather. A very old man, at least as old as I am now, 91. I thought,… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“How strange tonight, this city. As if something trembled below its surface, waiting to burst through.” — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“It was one of those great iron afternoons in London: the yellow sun being teased apart by a thoasand chimneys breathing, fawning upward without… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“Surely for as long as there have been nights as bad as this one---something to raise the possibility of another night that could actually,… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“People read what news they wanted to and each accordingly built his own rathouse of history's rags and straws.” — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“Out of that night and day of unconditional wrath, folks would've expected to see any city, if it survived, all newly reborn, purified by… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“As spread thighs are to the libertine...so was the letter V to young Stencil.” — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“Oedipa wondered whether, at the end of this (if it were supposed to end), she too might not be left with only compiled memories… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers. — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“remember didn't you sneak away from camp to have a moment alone with What you felt stirring across the land . . . it… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“Through rain...then through dreaming glass, green with the evening. And herself in chair, old-fashioned, bonneted, looking west over the deck of Earth, inferno red… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
“She knew instinctively: he will be fine as the fraternity boy just out of an Ivy League school who knows he will never stop… — Thomas Pynchon Copy Share Image
