Top 10 Livres selon ragpicker

Annotation :

"So may it be. Wrap me in the weathers of the earth, I will be hard and hard. My face will turn rain like the stones."

“Suttree stood among the screaming leaves and called the lightning down. It cracked and boomed about and he pointed out the darkened heart within him and cried for light. If there be any art in the weathers of this earth. Or char these bones to coal. If you can, if you can. A blackened rag in the rain.”

Annotation :

"The singing, as monotonous as grey earth, as grey wood, rose in sudden spasms of passion, to die down, down, as the charcoal lying. The voices of dust would die right away. To rise and sing."

" [...] She was now quite naked. And beautiful. Her eyes were drenching him.
So they rode on above the dust, in which they were writing their own legend."

Annotation :

"They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly now, - nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation lying confusedly in the greenish gloom."

“I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable greyness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamour, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat, in a sickly atmostphere of tepid scepticism, without much belief in your own right, and still less in that of your adversary.”

Annotation :

"J'aime ma solitude, comme une maison de campagne, comme une retraite vigilante. Les larmes que je verse sont closes."

Annotation :

"She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word -
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle,
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing."

Annotation :

“That is the substance of remembering—sense, sight, smell: the muscles with which we see and hear and feel not mind, not thought: there is no such thing as memory: the brain recalls just what the muscles grope for: no more, no less; and its resultant sum is usually incorrect and false and worthy only of the name of dream.”

Annotation :

"Does the White Whale actually symbolize the unknowability and meaninglessness of human existence? ... No, that's just a fucking fish." Ron Swanson