Endeavourneverland interview with Shaun: (excerpt):
[N&N] ...and Paul Auster. Have you read him?
[SE] Oh, I love Paul Auster. He's great.
[N&N] I think his characters are intentionally trying to lose themselves in... something. To forget the self, to immerse themselves so deep into the ineffable that the self isn't there anymore. Do you ever want to do that?
[SE] Yeah, of course. My God, yes. I think that's what we seek when we do all of our work, you know? [...] Whether you're playing a part or you're telling a story, it's always about more than you. It's about forgetting the small self and trying to connect with that which is bigger and more universal, but through the lens of the individual and the personal. I think you're always trying to reach beyond your tiny self, you know, so that you can offer something - and learn something, too.”
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Paul Auster | Ashkan Sahihi
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Paul Auster, The Brooklyn Follies
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Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.
Paul Auster, The Invention of Solitude
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I had jumped off the edge, and then, at the very last moment, something reached out and caught me in midair. That something is what I define as love. It is the one thing that can stop a man from falling, powerful enough to negate the laws of gravity.
Paul Auster, Moon Palace
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Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.
Paul Auster, The Invention of Solitude
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Paul Auster portrait by Todd Heisler for The New York Times
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The violent rose
Of ruined and transcendent lovers.
— René Char, Selected Poems of René Char, transl by Paul Auster, (1992)
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Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.
Paul Auster, The Invention of Solitude
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Nothing lasts, you see, not even the thoughts inside you. And you mustn't waste your time looking for them. Once a thing is gone, that is the end of it.
Paul Auster, The Invention of Solitude
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Noches blancas
No hay nadie aquí,
y el cuerpo dice: todo lo dicho
no debe ser dicho. Pero nadie
es un cuerpo igualmente, y lo que el cuerpo dice
nadie lo oye
excepto tú.
Nevada y noche. La repetición
de un asesinato
entre los árboles. La pluma
se mueve sobre la tierra: qué ocurrirá
lo ignora, y la mano que la sostiene
ha desaparecido.
No obstante, escribe.
Escribe: en el principio,
entre los árboles, un cuerpo vino caminando
desde la noche. Escribe:
la blancura del cuerpo
es del color de la tierra. Es tierra,
y la tierra escribe: todo
es del color del silencio.
Yo no estoy aquí. Nunca he dicho
lo que tú dices
que he dicho. Y, cada noche,
desde el silencio de los árboles, sabes
que mi voz
viene caminando hacia ti.
Paul Auster, de Desapariciones 1970 – 1979
Traducción de Jordi Doce. Ed. Pre-textos – 1996
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Genelde yaşadığımız acıların altında, en sevdiğimiz insanların imzası vardır...
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Anything was possible, and just because things happened in one way didn't mean they couldn't happen in another.
Paul Auster, 4 3 2 1
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paul auster, author of my favourite book ever written, "city of glass", passed away today. his work has had such an enormous impact, not just on my own work but postmodern fiction (AND games! look at metal gear solid 2!) in general.
may he rest in peace.
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