It was the time of year, the time of day, for a small insistent sadness to pass into the texture of things. Dusk, silence, iron chill. Something lonely in the bone. — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“We all know how the thing we secretly fear is not a secret at all but the open and eternal thing that predicts its… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
Everything is barely weeks. Everything is days. We have minutes to live. — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
The novel is the dream release, the suspension of reality that history needs to escape its own brutal confinements. — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“As I listened I thought a featureless baggy man was striking me in slow motion with a well-polished stone.” — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“Murray said, 'I don't trust anybody's nostalgia but my own. Nostalgia is a product of dissatisfaction and rage. It´s a settling of grievances between… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“She is beginning to think it is possible that all creation is a spurt of blank matter that chances to make an emerald planet… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“Those who have abandoned belief must still believe in us. They are sure that they are right not to believe but they know belief must not fade completely. Hell is when no one believes. There must always be believers. Fools, idiots, those who hear voices, those who speak in tongues. We are your lunatics. We surrender our lives to make… — Don DeLillo Copy Share
“The plane had lost power in all three engines, dropped from thirty-four thousand feet to twelve thousand feet. Something like four miles. When the steep glide began, people rose, fell, collided, swam in their seats. Then the serious screaming and moaning began. Almost immediately a voice from the flight deck was heard on the intercom: "We're falling out of the… — Don DeLillo Copy Share
“Grass: I live in a great steel tower that reflects the blazing sun. People catch fire just walking by. The more bodies that pile up around you, the greater your equity, the stronger your power, the longer you live. This is the point of living in a high rise. To see the bodies pile up at sunset, the nostalgic hour,… — Don DeLillo Copy Share
“Marriage is something we make from available materials. In this sense it’s improvised, it’s almost offhand. Maybe this is why we know so little… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
The true life is not reducible to words spoken or written, not by anyone, ever. The true life takes place when we're alone, thinking,… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
