William Gaddis

The painters could be identified by dirty fingernails; the writers by conversation in labored monosyllables and aggressive vulgarities which disguised their minds.

What’s any artist, but the dregs of his work? the human shambles that follows it around. What’s left of the man when the work’s done but a shambles of apology.

Tragedy was foresworn, in ritual denial of the ripe knowledge that we are drawing away from one another, that we share only one thing, share the fear of belonging to another, or to others, or to God; love or money, tender equated in advertising and the world, where only money is currency, and under dead trees and brittle ornaments prehensile hands exchange forgeries of what the heart dare not surrender.

Why do you treat me as they do, as though I were exactly what I want to be. Why do we treat people that way?

Let them look up in the sky then…! if they must be so blind, that cannot see the truth in broad daylight, but must have the whole world in darkness to see the conceit of the stars…

I’ll tell you why yes, because why people lie is, because when people stop lying you know they’ve stopped caring.

A man’s true delight is to do the things he was made for.

I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave.

Mementos of this world, in which the things worth being were so easily exchanged for the things worth having.

Therefore if a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune; for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible.

Our chief want in life is somebody who shall make us do what we can.

We shall show mercy, but we shall not ask for it.

There are those that are void of all mercy, but when it comes the time that they are on their knees, they plead for it. Those that were born with the art of deception, never sincere with their words or actions. But mercy is not theirs to take, only for you to give. Never compromise your standards, your beliefs and become like the ones who you are fighting against, but stay resolute to who you are.

If man had created man, he would be ashamed of his performance.

Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.

A myriad of men are born; they labor and sweat and struggle; …they squabble and scold and fight; they scramble for little mean advantages over each other; age creeps upon them; infirmities follow; …those they love are taken from them, and the joy of life is turned to aching grief. It comes at last-the only unpoisoned gift earth ever had for them-and they vanish from a world where they were of no consequence, …a world which will lament them a day and forget them forever.

Truth often suffers more by the heat of its defenders than the arguments of its opposers.

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder, a part of experience.

I would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. It is of no moment to the happiness of an individual.

I don’t want to talk grammar. I want to talk like a lady.

Anger is short madness