Quotes from Mark Z. Danielewski

He loved more than anything to fly. His sole conflict was with gravity.

Do not entrust your future to the limits of your stride.

words need worlds in order to be worlds. worlds though don't need words in order to be worlds.

Of course real horror does not depend upon the melodrama of shadows or even the conspiracies of night.

Some people reflect light Some deflect it You by some miracle Seem to collect it

The greatest love letters are always encoded for the one and not the many.

Symbols shmimbols. Sure they're important but... Well look at Ahab's whale. Now there's a great symbol. Some say it stands for god, meaning, and purpose. Others say it stands for purposelessness and the void. But what we sometimes forget is that Ahab's whale was also just a whale.

Our newness lies only in parts rearranged.

But tomorrow came faster than expected, as if the future were never somewhere else, but all along part of the fabric of every present, merely untwining itself again and again into a new distinction that could never be new again.

I took my morning walk, I took my evening walk, I ate something, I thought about something, I wrote something, I napped and dreamt something too, and with all that something, I still have nothing because so much of sum'things has always been and always will be you. I miss you.

Ever see yourself doing something in the past and no matter how many times you remember it you still want to scream stop, somehow redirect the action, reorder the present?

Of course curiosity killed the cat, and even if satisfaction supposedly brought it back, there's still that little problem with the man on the radio telling me more and more about some useless information.

He [Zampano] probably would of insisted on corrections and edits, he was his own harshest critic, but I've come to believe errors, especially written errors, are often the only markers left by a solitary life: to sacrifice them is to lose the angels of personality, the riddle of a soul. In this case a very old soul. A very old riddle.

How do we remember this emptiness so in fullness we won't forget?

People frequently comment on the emptiness in one night stands, but emptiness here has always been just another word for darkness. Blind encounters writing sonnets no one can ever read. Desire and pain cmmunicated in the vague language of sex.

It's too annoying. Too me.

I'm so tired. Sleep's been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose.

my point being, what if my attacks are enterly unrelated attributable in fact to something entirely else, perhaps for instance just warning shocks brought on by my own crumbling biology, tiny flakes of unknown chemical origin already burning holes through the fabric of my mind, dismantling memories, undoing even the strongest powers of imagination and reason? how then do you fly from that path?

I was twelve miles from no where.

One glance at her, even now in the glass of my mind, and I want to take off and travel with her.

Hopefully you'll be able to make sense of what I can represent though still fail to understand.

Do we miss not only the past but every future the lost past describes? Is that just the nature of missing? All the lost might-have-beens? The certainty that those uncertain futures are gone? If we can't embrace uncertainty do we miss the point of love?

No gunfire, famine, or flies. Just lots of toothpaste, gardening and people stuff.

Also remember, love inhabits more than just the heart and mind. If need be it can take shelter in a big toe.