It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born.
It is in your act that you exist, not in your body. Your act is yourself, and there is no other you.
Honestly, I can’t think of any particular thing from this book that brings back memories. I can barely remember the characters involved.
All I remember is the feeling.
It appears that I’ve overlooked a few literary certainties about Neil Gaiman. American Gods took my complete fascination and attention ever since it was released some years back – I didn’t even think to check for new works. Of course, there’s been a couple of releases since American Gods..but I’d be lying if I said I gave another book of his just as much attention. American Gods honestly is my theme song to just about anything in my life past or present. Shit, maybe even future. As a matter of fact, if someone ever decides to make a time capsule of my life, I want nothing in it except that book. And maybe a photo or two.
From reading the synopsis of The Graveyard Book, it sounds like its what I would expect – definitely a possibility that it’ll satiate my desire for something as weird and as wonderful as American Gods was.
You’d have to do math to divide a
smile by a tear, times fear, equals
mere truth, that simply dwells in the
air. But if that’s the case all I have
to do is breathe and all else will follow.
That’s why drums are hollow.
And I like drums. Drums are good.
But I can’t think straight. I lack the
attention span to meditate. My attention
spans galaxies. Here and now are immense.
Seconds are secular. Moments are mine.
Self is illusion. Music’s divine.”
photo.stream
