“All I ask of life, he says, is a bunch of books, a bunch of dreams, and a bunch of cunt.”
Source: Tropic of Cancer
“All I ask of life, he says, is a bunch of books, a bunch of dreams, and a bunch of cunt.”
Source: Tropic of Cancer
1945 Source: [Kaufman, Charlie, Inspirational Writing Advice From Charlie Kaufman - On Writing, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRfXcWT_oFs, YouTube, BAFTA Guru, 2017-01-06, 2020-03-09] (at 7:08 of 41:08)
“One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.”
Variant: Often misquoted as "One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things".
Source: Miller, H. (1957). Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch
Source: The Rosy Crucifixion I: Sexus (1949), Ch. 9, p. 205
Source: Stand Still Like the Hummingbird
“My hunger and curiosity drive me forward in all directions at once.”
Source: The Rosy Crucifixion II: Plexus (1953), p. 61
“I made up my mind that I would hold onto nothing, that I would expect nothing.”
Source: Tropic of Cancer
Source: Tropic of Cancer (1934), Chapter One
Context: Well, I'll take these pages and move on. Things are happening elsewhere. Things are always happening. It seems wherever I go there is drama. People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes, but you can't get permanently deloused. Everywhere I go people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy. It's in the blood now - misfortune, ennui, grief, suicide. The atmosphere is saturated with disaster, frustration, futility. Scratch and scratch, until there's no skin left. However, the effect upon me is exhilarating. Instead of being discouraged or depressed, I enjoy it. I am crying for more and more disasters, for bigger calamities, grander failures. I want the whole world to be out of whack, I want every one to scratch himself to death.
Letters of Henry Miller and Wallace Fowlie (1975)
Variant: It is with the soul that we grasp the essence of another human being, not with the mind, nor even with the heart.
“There's something perverse about women… they're all masochists at heart.”
Source: Tropic of Cancer