Читать книгу Lit: A Memoir - Mary Karr - Страница 9

I was miserable, of course, for I was seventeen,

and so I swung into action and wrote a poem,

and it was miserable, for that’s how I thought

poetry worked: you digested experience and shat

literature.

—William Matthews, “Mingus at the Showplace”

They all followed a circuitous route, which very often took them to foreign countries, but led only to disintegration and death, and meanwhile their parents, their brothers and sisters and other relatives, drank themselves to death at home. … They existed in a ceaseless delirium of accusation and blame, which amounted to a deadly disease.

—Thomas Bernhard, Gathering Evidence