“ Lady Jane, with white strap-lines decorating her shoulders, fragrant with suntan lotion, goes way way way way way out in the boondocks, where there’s nothing but slag heaps, to eat watermelon pulled fresh from some farmer’s patch and cooled in a nearby mountain stream. And me? I get to console Adama’s mother. Air raids? So what? You want to talk about real injustice? When Meursault shot the Arab, he blamed it all on the sun. I felt like Camus. Life is absurd.
— Page 118.
Murakami, R. (2002). Sixty-Nine (R.F. McCarthy, Trans.). Tokyo: Kodansha International. (Original work published year 1987)
“ Kanamoto paused to take a gulp of gin before continuing. “You think of yourself as an adult, don’t you Kazuki? You’ve realized that you have the same desires and strengths as an adult.
— Page 239.
Yu, M. (2002). Gold Rush (S. Snyder, Trans.). New York: Welcome Rain. (Original work published year 1998)
“ Cora,” she began, “I hope we can still be friends after all this.”
“Me too,” I said, not able to tell which of us was lying.
— Page 204.
Hur, A. (2007). Queens of K-Town. San Francisco: MacAdam/Cage.
“ He had never said he loved her. He had only ever told her what he loved, to impart the way he wanted her to be.
— Page 290.
Choi, Susan. (1998). The Foreign Student. New York: HarperCollins.
“ She likes you because you’re an outsider.
— Page 176.
Choi, Susan. (1998). The Foreign Student. New York: HarperCollins.
“ You couldn’t even wonder where all that sprang from, or how it was that a world came into existence, rather than nothingness. It didn’t make sense, the World was everywhere, in front, behind. There had been nothing before it. Nothing. There had never been a moment in which it could not have existed. That was what worried me: of course there was no reason for this flowing larva to exist. But it was impossible for it is not to exist. It was unthinkable: to imagine nothingness you had to be there already, in the midst of the World, eyes wide open and live; nothingness was only an idea in my head, an existing idea floating in this immensity: this nothingness had not come before existence, it was an existence like any other and appeared after many others. I shouted “filth! what rotten filth!” and shook myself to get rid of this sticky filth, but it held fast and there was so much, tons and tons of existence, endless: I stifled at the depths of this immense weariness. And then suddenly the park emptied as through a great hole, the World disappeared as it had come, or else I woke up—in any case, I saw no more of it; nothing was left but the yellow earth around me, out of which dead branches rose upward.
— Page 134-135.
Sartre, J. (1979). Nausea (L. Alexander, Trans.). New York: New Directions. (Original work published year 1938)
“ Where shall I keep mine? You don’t put your past in your pocket; you have to have a house. I have only my body: a man entirely alone, with his lonely body, cannot indulge in memories; they pass through him. I shouldn’t complain: all I wanted was to be free.
— Page 65.
Sartre, J. (1979). Nausea (L. Alexander, Trans.). New York: New Directions. (Original work published year 1938)
“ In short, as soon as we go beyond the framework of pure verifying vision, truth is the risk of error. But we always transcend the framework of verifying vision because verification is successive. And it is not successive by chance but because truth must temporalize itself. Thus error is a permanent risk of a verification that is arrested or not started again. If I stop myself during the verification, it no longer depends on me that the object, grasped to the point at which I stop myself, is true or false. Verification must be a circular and continuous process. But like verification of the object, it is the use I make of it for my ends, because the verification is circular and continues as long as the use last.
— Page 25.
Sartre, J. (1992). Truth and Existence (A. van den Hoven, Trans.). Chicago: University of Chicago. (Original work published year 1989)
“ The distinguished corruption teaches the man of distinction that he exists only for distinguished men, that he shall live only in their social circle, that he must not exist for other men, just as they must not exist for him. But he must be circumspect, as it is called, in order with smoothness and dexterity to avoid getting people excited; that is to say, the secret and the art of the secret consist in keeping this secret to oneself. This avoidance of disturbance must not be an expression for the relationship, and it must not be done in a striking manner that might awaken attention. No, the evasiveness must be for the purpose of shielding oneself and therefore must be practiced so carefully that no one becomes aware of it, to say nothing of being offended by it… And if he can do this easily, smoothly, tastefully, elusively and yet always keeping his secret (that those other men do not really exist for him and he does not exist for them), then this refined corruption will confirm him as being—a well-bred man.
— Page 264-265.
Kierkeggard, S. (2004). The Humor of Kierkegaard: An Anthology. Princeton: Princeton University.
“ If someone is sixteen summers old and another sixteen winters, are they not the same age? Alas, no! Why not? Is the time not the same when it is the same? Alas, no! The time is not the same.
— Page 188.
Kierkeggard, S. (2004). The Humor of Kierkegaard: An Anthology. Princeton: Princeton University.
