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There are dead stars that still shine because their light is trapped in time. Where do I stand in this light, which does not strictly exist? (155)

Don DeLillo

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Don DeLillo
Age: 88
Born: 1936
Born: November 20
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Don Delillo
Donald Richard DeLillo
Time
Exist
Dead
Stand
Stars
Light
Strictly
Stills
Shine
Doe
Trapped
Still
Shining

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What did it mean, the first time, a thinking creature looked deeply into another's eyes? Did it take a hundred thousand years before this happened or it was the first thing they did, transcendingly, the thing that made them higher, made them modern, the gaze that demonstrates we are lonely in our souls?
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If you reveal everything, bare every feeling, ask for understanding, you lose something crucial to your sense of yourself. You need to know things that others don't know. It's what no one knows about you that allows you to know yourself.
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First you look for discipline and control. You want to exercise your will, bend the language your way, bend the world your way. You want to control the flow of impulses, images, words, faces, ideas. But there's a higher place, a secret aspiration. You want to let go. You want to lose yourself in language, become a carrier or messenger.
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A person rises on a word and falls on a syllable.
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I was always younger than anyone around me. One day it began to change.
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I am ashamed every day, and more ashamed the next. But I will spend the rest of my life in this living space writing these notes, this journal, recording my acts and reflections, finding some honor, some worth at the bottom of things. I want ten thousand pages that will stop the world.
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The family was an art ... and the dinner table was the place it found expression.
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Freud is finished, Einstein's next.
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I've never made an outline for any novel that I've written. Never.
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Murray said, ´I don´t trust anybody´s nostalgia but my own. Nostalgia is a product of dissatisfaction and rage. It´s a settling of grievances between the present and the past. The more powerful the nostalgia, the closer you come to violence. War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.´
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The smoke alarm went off in the hallway upstairs, either to let us know the battery had just died or because the house was on fire.
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The world is full of abandoned meanings. In the commonplace I find unexpected themes and intensities.
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I think that the massive, overarching, interconnected systems of technology tend to make us a little insecure, somewhat pliable, and susceptible to half-beliefs.
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