63 Quotes by Malcolm Lowry

Perhaps his tragedy is that he is the only normal writer left on earth -- and it is this that adds to his isolation and so too his so sense of guilt.

Far above him a few white clouds were racing windily after a pale gibbous moon. Drink all morning, they said to him, drink all day. This is life!

The Consul looked at the sun. But he had lost the sun: it was not his sun. Like the truth, it was well-nigh impossible to face; he did not want to go anywhere near it, least of all, sit in its light, facing it.

Strange TypeI wrote: in the dark cavern of our birth. The printer had it tavern, which seems better: But herein lies the subject of our mirth, Since on the next page death appears as dearth. So it may be that God’s word was distraction, Which to our strange type appears destruction, Which is bitter.

The broken pink pillars, in the half-light, might have been waiting to fall down on him: the pool, covered with green scum, its steps torn away and hanging by one rotting clamp, to close over his head. The shattered evil-smelling chapel, overgrown with weeds, the crumbling walls, splashed with urine, on which scorpions lurked - wrecked entablature, sad archivolt, slippery stones covered with excreta - this place, where love had once brooded, seemed part of a nightmare.

I have resisted temptation for two and a half minutes at least: my redemption is sure.

In the war to come correspondents would assume unheard of importance, plunging through flame to feed the public its little gobbets of dehydrated excrement.

¿LE GUSTA ESTE JARDIN QUE ES SUYO? ¡EVITE QUE SUS HIJOS LODESTRUYAN!

[Fitzgerald's] latter work represents essentially best qualities of chivalry and decency now too often lacking in the English themselves.