Total Lunar Eclipse, Blood Worm Moon © Astronycc

La Collectionneuse (1967), dir. Eric Rohmer

“I had observed that the men who were most in life, who were molding life, who were life itself, ate little, slept little, owned little or nothing. They had no illusions about duty, or the perpetuation of their kith and kin, or the preservation of the State. They were interested in truth and in truth alone. They recognized only one kind of activity — creation. Nobody could command their services because they had of their own pledged themselves to give all. They gave gratuitously, because that is the only way to give.”

— Henry Miller, The Rosy Crucifixion

“There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.”

— Khalil Gibran

“I put my hand on my chest and closed my eyes. I have a dinosaur heart, cold, massive, indestructible, a thick meaty red. And I have a glass heart, tiny and pink, that can be shattered… There was a ping. To my surprise, it had developed a minute crack, nearly invisible. But it was there, and it hurt.”

— Louise Erdrich, The Sentence

Franz Kafka, 1912

Sometimes you need to sleep, sleep a lot. Not to escape, but to rest your soul from your feelings. Because everything, absolutely everything devours you. Completely.

—Brain

Augusto De Luca, “Bianco e Nero”, 1983

ببصلها وكأنها بتتحرك حواليا بالتصوير البطيئ،مش عارفه تبتسم ف الوقت الصح ولا عارفه ترد،مش مركزه معايا اصلا،كدا كده حالتك بتسوء بس عموما وبعيد عن الحاله اللى انتى فيها دى انا كده شايفك احلى وبتحلووى،انتى مش محتاجه لوجود حد بس انا محتاج،وده كفايه بعد ما كلنا كنا بنعتمد عليكى. الوجع اللى بتحسيه من ناحيتى،انا مابقتش موجود اصلا علشان تحسيه،بس روحى موجوده،سامحينى. "بكلم الشمس" حلوه الشمس،صح!

“The world wasn’t real anymore. Everything in it was a fraudulent copy of what it should have been, and everything that happened in it shouldn’t have been happening. For a long time afterward, Ferguson lived under the spell of this illusion, sleepwalking through his days and struggling to fall asleep at night, sick of a world he had stopped believing in, doubting everything that presented itself to his eyes.”

— Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1