Jahrhundertfeier Quotes & Sayings

I'd like to return to prose after a fifteen-year hiatus. An epistolary novella maybe. A man went into the mountains fifteen years ago to write the following letter to a woman: "Dear B., I'd like to strike you down with an iron rod. Maybe I love you. If you feel the same way and your wishes conform to mine, then please please get in touch with me posthaste. We'll discuss this matter together and make the necessary arrangements if everything works out. With warm wishes, Your Bernd." The letter is, however, never mailed and never written. In further letters to B. from Bernd, he pursues, among other things, the question: why? The last letter could be the one in which Bernd lets B. know that the matter has been settled since he has just been struck down by a group of women with iron rods. — Urs Allemann

A man in a desert can hold absence in his cupped hands knowing it is something that feeds him more than water. There is a plant he knows of near El Taj, whose heart, if one cuts it out, is replaced with a fluid containing herbal goodness. Every morning one can drink the liquid the amount of a missing heart. — Michael Ondaatje

I would consider doing any part as long as the script is good and the film has an interesting director. — Daniel Radcliffe

In Iceland, you can see the contours of the mountains wherever you go, and the swell of the hills, and always beyond that the horizon. And there's this strange thing: you're never sort of hidden; you always feel exposed in that landscape. But it makes it very beautiful as well. — Hannah Kent

When cops are on the job they love lawyers like lions love hyenas, only minus the mutual respect. — Reed Farrel Coleman

Who we are is how we are in relation to others — C. Terry Warner

In America, sex is preached; in France, it is done. — Fritz Lang

And then, gradually, the memory of her would fade away, I had forgotten the girl of my dream. — Marcel Proust

Joy emanates out of the abiding sense of God's fierce love for us. — Margaret Feinberg

So she sat on with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality. — Lewis Carroll