9
" All my work will explode inside my body, each fragment of my anatomy will acquire a life of its own, outside mine, Humberto won’t exist, only these monsters, the despot who imprisoned me at La Rinconada to force me to invent him, Ines’s honey complexion, Brigida’s death, Iris Mateluna’s hysterical pregnancy, the saintly girl who was never beatified, Humberto Penaloza’s father pointing out Don Jeronimo dressed up to go to the Jockey Club, and your benign, kind hand, Mother Benita, that does not and will not let go of mine, and your attention fixed on these words of a mute, and your rosaries, the Casa’s La Rinconada as it once was, as it is now, as it was afterwards, the escape, the crime, all of it alive in my brain, Peta Ponce’s prism refracting and confusing everything and creating simultaneous and contradictory planes, everything without ever reaching paper, because I always hear voices and laughter enveloping and tying me up. "
― José Donoso , The Obscene Bird of Night
11
" Normal humanity has only the courage to react to the usual gradations that range from the beautiful to the ugly, which in the long run are nothing but nuances of the same thing. The monster, on the other hand, Don Jeronimo contended with feeling, in order to exalt them with his mystique, belongs to a different, privileged species, with its own rights and particular canons that exclude the concepts of beauty and ugliness as tenuous categories, because, in essence, monstrosity is the culmination of both qualities synthesized and exacerbated to the sublime. "
― José Donoso
13
" En una calle tranquila, en su caserón emporifollado en medio de un jardín desfallecido...tocada con su corona de plata florecida, había despertado en su sillón junto a la ventana. Pero su sueño no era muy distinto a su vigilia, tan débil estaba. .. Quedaba apenas una llamita de vida en la señora, casi, casi nada de consciencia. Sin embargo, divisó estrellas a través de los vidrios llovidos de la ventana, y como ya no era capaz de distinguir distancia ni cercanía, al ver luces remontando por los regueros de mostacillas del suelo hasta los brillos de su vestido de gran aparato, pensó que también eran estrellas del firmamento, y que la envolvían entera. Supuso que ya había muerto, y que iba subiendo entre tanta y tanta estrella, subiendo muy suavemente camino directo del cielo.
Después cerró los ojos.
Estaba tan agotada que no se dio cuenta de que sólo en ese instante moría, y no antes, cuando creyó ver todas las constelaciones rodeándola. "
― José Donoso , Coronación
