This section and further sections like it I am simply going to refer to as Quote Love because in the manner I need to write and engage with in a text, I require the accumulation of many quotes that push me to a reading.
"Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation. Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death.
~ Wernher von Braun" (Pynchon, 2006, pg.1)
"A market needed no longer be run by the Invisible Hand, but now could create itself - it's own logic, momentum, style, from inside. Putting the control inside was ratifying what de facto had happened - that you had dispensed with God. But you had taken on a greater, and more harmful illusion. The illusion of control. That A could do B. But that was false. Completely. No one can do. Things only happen, A and B are unreal, are names for parts that out to be inseparable. . . ." (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 31).
"Well: he guesses They have euchred Mexico into some such Byzantine exercise, probably to do with the Americans. Perhaps the Russians. 'The White Visitation," being devoted to psychological warfare, harbors a few of each, a Behaviorist here, a Pavlovian there. It's none of Pirate's business But he notes that with each film delivery, Roger's enthusiasm grows. Unhealthy, unhealthy: he has the sense of witnessing an addiction. He feels that his friend, his provisional wartime friend, is being used for something not quite decent," (Pynchon, 2006, 35).
"What finally irritated him out of all tolerance was that the dog didn't know how to reverse its behavior. It could open doors to the rain and the spring insects but not close them . . . knock over garbage, vomit on the floor, but not clean it up - how could anyone live with such a creature?" (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 53).
"The great balloons drift in the sky, pearl-grown, and the air is so still that this morning's brief snow still clings to the steel cables, white goes twisting peppermint-stick down thousands of feet of night. And the people who might have been asleep in the empty houses here, people blown away, some already forever . . . are they dreaming of cities that shine all over with lamps at night, of Christmases seen again from the vantage of children and not of sheep huddled so vulnerable on their bare hillside, so bleached by the Star's awful radiance? or of songs so funny, so lovely or true, that they can't be remembered on waking . . . dreams of peacetime. . . .
"What was it like? Before the war?" She knows she was alive then, a child, but it's not what she means," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 60).
"Roger Mexico thinks it's a statistical oddity. But he feels the foundations of that discipline trembling a bit now, deeper than oddity ought to drive. Odd, odd, odd - think of the word: such white finality in its closing clap of tongue. It implies moving past the tongue-stop- beyond the zero- and into the other realm. Of course you don't move past. But you do realize, intellectually, that's how you ought to be moving," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 87).
"He dreams often these days of a very pale woman who wants him, who never speaks - but the absolute confidence in her eyes . . . his awful certainty that she, a celebrity everyone recognizes of sight, knows him and has no reason to speak to him beyond the beckoning that's in her face, sends him vibrating awake in the nights," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 105).
"Hunting across the zero between waking and sleep, his halfway limp cock still inside her, their strengthless legs bent the same angle . . . " (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 121).
"But he must remain open - even to the possibility that the Psi people are right. "We may all be right," he puts in his journal tonight, "so may be all we have speculated, and more. Whatever we may find, there can be no doubt that he is, physiologically, historically, a monster. We must never lose control. The thought of him lost in the world of men, after the war, fills me with a deep dread I cannot extinguish. . . . " (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 147).
"Nature does not know extinction; all it knows is transformation. Everything science has taught me, and continues to teach me, strengthens my belief in the continuity of our spiritual existence after death.
~ Wernher von Braun" (Pynchon, 2006, pg.1)
"A market needed no longer be run by the Invisible Hand, but now could create itself - it's own logic, momentum, style, from inside. Putting the control inside was ratifying what de facto had happened - that you had dispensed with God. But you had taken on a greater, and more harmful illusion. The illusion of control. That A could do B. But that was false. Completely. No one can do. Things only happen, A and B are unreal, are names for parts that out to be inseparable. . . ." (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 31).
"Well: he guesses They have euchred Mexico into some such Byzantine exercise, probably to do with the Americans. Perhaps the Russians. 'The White Visitation," being devoted to psychological warfare, harbors a few of each, a Behaviorist here, a Pavlovian there. It's none of Pirate's business But he notes that with each film delivery, Roger's enthusiasm grows. Unhealthy, unhealthy: he has the sense of witnessing an addiction. He feels that his friend, his provisional wartime friend, is being used for something not quite decent," (Pynchon, 2006, 35).
"What finally irritated him out of all tolerance was that the dog didn't know how to reverse its behavior. It could open doors to the rain and the spring insects but not close them . . . knock over garbage, vomit on the floor, but not clean it up - how could anyone live with such a creature?" (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 53).
"The great balloons drift in the sky, pearl-grown, and the air is so still that this morning's brief snow still clings to the steel cables, white goes twisting peppermint-stick down thousands of feet of night. And the people who might have been asleep in the empty houses here, people blown away, some already forever . . . are they dreaming of cities that shine all over with lamps at night, of Christmases seen again from the vantage of children and not of sheep huddled so vulnerable on their bare hillside, so bleached by the Star's awful radiance? or of songs so funny, so lovely or true, that they can't be remembered on waking . . . dreams of peacetime. . . .
"What was it like? Before the war?" She knows she was alive then, a child, but it's not what she means," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 60).
"Roger Mexico thinks it's a statistical oddity. But he feels the foundations of that discipline trembling a bit now, deeper than oddity ought to drive. Odd, odd, odd - think of the word: such white finality in its closing clap of tongue. It implies moving past the tongue-stop- beyond the zero- and into the other realm. Of course you don't move past. But you do realize, intellectually, that's how you ought to be moving," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 87).
"He dreams often these days of a very pale woman who wants him, who never speaks - but the absolute confidence in her eyes . . . his awful certainty that she, a celebrity everyone recognizes of sight, knows him and has no reason to speak to him beyond the beckoning that's in her face, sends him vibrating awake in the nights," (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 105).
"Hunting across the zero between waking and sleep, his halfway limp cock still inside her, their strengthless legs bent the same angle . . . " (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 121).
"But he must remain open - even to the possibility that the Psi people are right. "We may all be right," he puts in his journal tonight, "so may be all we have speculated, and more. Whatever we may find, there can be no doubt that he is, physiologically, historically, a monster. We must never lose control. The thought of him lost in the world of men, after the war, fills me with a deep dread I cannot extinguish. . . . " (Pynchon, 2006, pg. 147).
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