146
" Outside the wind blew by; in here there was nothing but the beating of the hot sun on the skin. He lay a while, intensely conscious of the welcome heat, in a state of self-induced voluptuousness. When he looked at the sun, his eyes closed almost tight, he saw webs of crystalline fire crawling across the narrow space between the slitted lids, and his eyelashes made the furry beams of light stretch out, recede, stretch out. It was a long time since he had lain naked in the sun. He remembered that if you stayed out long enough the rays drew every thought out of your head. That was what he wanted, to be baked dry and hard, to feel the vaporous worries evaporating one by one, to know finally that all the damp little doubts and hesitations that covered the floor of his being were curling up and expiring in the great furnace-blast of the sun. "
― Paul Bowles , Let It Come Down
151
" რადგან არ ვიცით, როდის წავალთ ამქვეყნიდან, გვეჩვენება, რომ ცხოვრება ამოუწურავი ჭაა, თუმცა, ყველაფერი მხოლოდ რამოდენიმეჯერ შეიძლება მოხდეს. ისე მცირედ, რომ თითზე თუ ჩამოთვლი. რამდენჯერ შეგიძლია გაიხსენო რომელიმე დღე ბავშვობიდან? ის დღე, რომელიც შენი არსებობის განუყოფელი ნაწილია, რომლის გარეშე ცხოვრება არც კი წარმოგიდგენია? ალბათ ოთხ ან ხუთჯერ, შესაძლოა, კიდევ უფრო ნაკლებად. კიდევ რამდენჯერ შეძლებთ ნახოთ მთვარის სავსეობა? შეიძლება ოცჯერ. და მაინც, ეს ყველაფერი გეჩვენებათ მარადიულად. "
― Paul Bowles
157
" Always in conjunction with his fantasies he saw the imperturbable, faintly questioning face in its mask-like symmetry. He felt a sudden shudder of self pity that was almost pleasurable, it was such a complete expression of his mood. It was a physical shudder; he was alone, abandoned, lost, hopeless, cold. Cold especially – a deep interior cold nothing could change. Although it was the basis of his unhappiness, this glacial deadness, he would cling to it always, because it was also the core of his being; he had built the being around it. "
― Paul Bowles , The Sheltering Sky