Chicago was a town where nobody could forget how the money was made. It was picked up from floors still slippery with blood.
Norman MailerRead
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Chicago was a town where nobody could forget how the money was made. It was picked up from floors still slippery with blood.
No man means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous.
Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they’ll feel they’re thinking, they’ll get a sense of motion without moving. And they’ll be happy, because facts of that sort don’t change. Don’t give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy.
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain The pine sings, but there's no wind. Who can leap the world's ties And sit with me among the white clouds?
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