Biblioteca | Julho 2011

Halldór Laxness | The Atom Station

"It was not until I had become used to seing the elder daughter seat herself at the grand piano and dash off some Chopin impromptu as if nothing could be more natural, that I realised how ludicrous it was to hear a big, strapping north-country girl announce in a civilised home that she was going to learn to play the harmonium.

'That's just like you northerners, to start talking to people,' said the cook when I returned to the kitchen.

Rebellion stirred in me and I replied, 'I am people.'

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J. G. Ballard | Crash

"As I turned the ignition switch, Vaughan said, 'Seagrave has gone.'

'Where? They've finished the crash sequence here.'

'God only knows. He's driving around in a wig and leopard-skin coat. He may start following Catherine.'"

- I'm pretty sure this book is a misunderstood comedy...

Biblioteca | abril - junho 2011

Halldór Laxness | Independent People

"Out in the ewe-house in the mornings they often tried to find some answers to the riddle of why, after all the thoughtlessness that seemed to rule the world, there should come men who not only were acquainted with the content of books, but had actually seen with their own eyes the world that is described in print, and had, moreover, travelled it with their own foot. Not only had he seen cities and zoological gardens, he had also wandered in the woods where one finds happiness, or at least peace, and he knew the words that fit te locked compartments of the soul, like keys, and open them."

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Gyrðir Elíasson | Stone Tree

"After some thought, he took out a raincoat the hung in the hall cupboard among the books. He buttoned up the coat, stuck several paperbacks in his pockets, laced up his shoes and went out. Rounding the corner of the house, he strolled past the sports field and lit a cigarette, sheltering it from the drizzle. The sky was as grey as over a coal-mining village in Wales. He met no one. Before long he had pulled a book out of his pocket and begun to read as he walked, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. The pages grew gradually damp, and he turned them with care."

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Graham Greene | Our Man in Havana

"They can print statistics and count the populations in hundreds of thousands, but to each man a city consists of no more than a few streets, a few houses, a few people. Remove those few and a city exists no longer except as pain in the memory, like the pain of an amputated leg no longer there. It was time, Wormold thought, to pack up and go and leave the ruins of Havana."

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Halldór Laxness | The Fish Can Sing

"Often there was frost and frozen snow, and the ice creaked in the night. Somewhere out in the infinite distance lay the spring, at least in God's mind, like the babies that are not yet conceived in the mother's womb."

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Paul Theroux | Half Moon Street

"Lauren admired the man's roosterish arrogance. When she was impressed her face shone, the excitement whipped up her blood and made her prettier. The man's arrogance somehow went with his ugliness and made him majestic."

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