Charaktere sind vielleicht schon bezeichnet und beschrieben worden, seit es Lebewesen gibt, die sprechen können. Dichter haben das sehr differenziert getan; man denke an Proust, Tolstoi oder Dostojewski. Diese Autoren haben die innere Dynamik eines Charakters und seine Veränderungen unter aktuellen Einflüssen der Umwelt dargestellt. Wer ihre Bücher liest, kann verstehen, warum die beschriebenen Personen so und nicht anders gehandelt haben. Dichter haben auch beschrieben, wie Menschen zu dem werden, was sie sind. Dichter wissen vieles, was Psychoanalytiker sich mühsam erarbeiten.

So much of life is invisible, inscrutable: layers of thoughts, feelings, outward events entwined with secrecies, ambiguities, ambivalences, obscurities, darknesses strongly present even to the one who's lived it- maybe especially to the one who's lived it. I didn't seek to find her, wandered instead within and among her fragments of language-notebooks, drafts, journals, fictions, letters, essays, and found there whole worlds like spinning planets, lived in their cold light and burning light, wondering where I was, where they might take me. Curious, I heard a monster's voice and followed-

تعرفين أني قد غششتك ... أني قد سرقتك ونهبت مالك فلماذا شكرتني- في أماكن أخرى لم يكونوا ليدفعوا لي شيئا البتة

Había leído lo bastante como para apreciar mi ingenio literario, pero no lo bastante como para identificar mis fuentes de conocimiento. Me encantan las mujeres así. Podía decirle cosas como: "La principal diferencia entre la felicidad y la alegría es que la felicidad es sólida, mientras que la alegría es líquida" y, escudándome en su ignorancia de Salinger, sentirme ingenioso, seductor y, porqué no decirlo, joven. Notaba que Ernie me miraba fijamente mientras yo me daba pisto, pero qué diablos, pensaba yo. Un hombre tiene derecho a flirtear.

A group of ten prisoners from Dachau, I was with them, we hid in the forest to wait for the Americans. The Germans had already left everything behind. We had food but no weapons. For days we could hear bombs exploding around us. We just wanted to survive long enough for the Americans to control the territory. We didn’t want to die. At that point, our prison uniforms were the only things to keep us from being shot on the spot by the Americans. That was all we had. Who would the Americans believe? Real prisoners or guards dressed as prisoners? Those devils might even say we were the Germans. This was our nightmare.

أبدا لا أفهمك، أبدا، لكنني كما يقول بهاء طاهر "لا أعرف أسماء الزهور ولكني أحبها".. لا أفهمك تماماً.. ولكني أحبك!

And since a novel has this correspondence to real life, its values are to some extent those of real life. But it is obvious that the values of women differ very often from the values which have been made by the other sex; naturally this is so. Yet is it the masculine values that prevail. Speaking crudely, football and sport are "important"; the worship of fashion, the buying of clothes "trivial." And these values are inevitably transferred from life to fiction. This is an important book, the critic assumes, because it deals with war. This is an insignificant book because it deals with the feelings of women in a drawing-room.

Imagine the same scene in HAMLET if Pullman had written it. Hamlet, using a mystic pearl, places the poison in the cup to kill Claudius. We are all told Claudius will die by drinking the cup. Then Claudius dies choking on a chicken bone at lunch. Then the Queen dies when Horatio shows her the magical Mirror of Death. This mirror appears in no previous scene, nor is it explained why it exists. Then Ophelia summons up the Ghost from Act One and kills it, while she makes a speech denouncing the evils of religion. Ophelia and Hamlet are parted, as it is revealed in the last act that a curse will befall them if they do not part ways.

When The Journal of Words compiled its list of the one hundred best novels written in English, do you know that Pride and Prejudice was number twelve?" She stopped pacing and glared at Jane. "And do you know where Jane Eyre was?" she asked. She looked at the four of them in turn, but nobody answered her. "Number fifty-two!" she shrieked. "Fifty-two! Below that pornographic travesty Lolita!" She spat the title as if it were poison. "Below Huckleberry Finn! Below Ulysses. Have you ever tried to read Ulysses? Have you ever finished it? No, you haven't. No one has. They just carry it around and lie about having read it.

لكنه لا يشك على الاطلاق بالوظيفة الثابتة للكاثوليكية كأداة كبح اجتماعي للأهواء والشهوات..لدى الوحش البشري

إذا كان الولد الصغير يقف صباحاً على شاطئ البحر، فهذا يعنى انه ليس فى المدرسة، وهو تلميح بوجود نقصٍ فى المدارس

The first one to bed always lit the candle, and the last one turned out the lamp....The tradition had seen them through quite a bit by now, and Rebecca had come to love the candlelight, not only because it meant that Mike loved to see her just the way she was, which was incredibly liberating once you began to actually believe it, but also because the light just felt holy to her. It made the end of the day into a kind of prayer, whether they made love or just lay in each other's arms and chewed over the day's portion of craziness; and there was that beautiful little puff of "Amen" when they blew the candle out and settled into sleep.

There was no sense to life, to the structure of things. D.H. Lawrence had known that. You needed love, but not the kind of love most people used and were used up by. Old D.H. had known something. His buddy Huxley was just an intellectual fidget, but what a marvelous one. Better than G.B. Shaw with that hard keel of a mind always scraping bottom, his labored wit finally only a task, a burden on himself, preventing him from really feeling anything, his brilliant speech finally a bore, scraping the mind and the sensibilities. It was good to read them all though. It made you realize that thoughts and words could be fascinating, if finally useless.

Uçakların icadı Zweig'in neslini çok heyecanlandırmış, dünyada savaşların sonunun geldiğine inandırmıştı, Uçaklar havadan uçtuğuna göre sınır falan tanımazdı ki. Dolayısıyla sınırlar yok olacak, barış gelecekti. Ama o nesil bir kaç yıl sonra uçakların gökten bomba yağdırarak Avrupa'yı yıktığını görmenin şokunu yaşamıştı. Entellektüel iyimserliğe karşı, politik gerçek.

But whatever the exact psychology of the process {receiving recognition or literary success}, the present has a way of contaminating the past. And the writing will change accordingly. Turmoil and dilemma once experienced with a certain desperation may be seen more complacently as the writer reflects that through expressing them he has realized his inevitable and well-deserved triumph. The lean years of patient toil when no one paid attention may even begin to seem preferable to the present. The very thing you created in the heat of fierce concentration has destroyed the circumstances that made it possible. The writer is devoured along with his books.