Malcolm Lowry
Malcolm Lowry
Clarence Malcolm Lowrywas an English poet and novelist who is best known for his 1947 novel Under the Volcano, which was voted No. 11 in the Modern Library 100 Best Novels list...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth28 July 1909
horse heart opportunity
The Consul felt a pang. Ah, to have a horse, and gallop away, singing, to someone you loved perhaps, into the heart of all the simplicity and peace in the world; was that not like the opportunity afforded man by life itself? Of course not. Still, just for a moment, it had seemed that it was.
men doe cry
Only against death does man cry out in vain.
two mute forts
For a time they confronted each other like two mute unspeaking forts.
moon worry anxiety
Fear ringed by doubt is my eternal moon.
stupid responsibility men
To say nothing of what you lose, lose, lose, are losing, man. You fool, you stupid fool ... You've even been insulated from the responsibility of genuine suffering ... Even the suffering you do endure is largely unnecessary. Actually spurious. It lacks the very basis you require of it for its tragic nature. You deceive yourself.
men soul littles
What is man but a little soul holding up a corpse?
drink chickens indian
How, unless you drink as I do, could you hope to understand the beauty of an old Indian woman playing dominoes with a chicken?
dog muzzle ends
Muzzle a dog and he will bark out of the other end.
men assassins convince
How shall the murdered man convince his assassin he will not haunt him.
heart moon night
God, how pointless and empty the world is! Days filled with cheap and tarnished moments succeed each other, restless and haunted nights follow in bitter routine: the sun shines without brightness, and the moon rises without light. My heart has the taste of ashes, and my throat is tight and weary with weeping. What is a lost soul? It is one that has turned from its true path and is groping in the darkness of remembered ways—
thinking land names
No, my secrets are of the grave and must be kept. And this is how I sometimes think of myself, as a great explorer who has discovered some extraordinary land from which he can never return to give his knowledge to the world: but the name of this land is hell.
thinking earth hell
Never think that by releasing me you will be free. You would only condemn us to an ultimate hell on earth. You would only free something else to destroy us both.