Home > Work > The Stories of Paul Bowles
1 " When they had gone the Moungari fell silent, to wait through the cold hours for the sun that would bring first warmth, then heat, thirst, fire, visions. The next night he did not know where he was, did not feel the cold. The wind blew dust along the ground into his mouth as he sang. "
― Paul Bowles , The Stories of Paul Bowles
2 " What words are there to tell how long a night can be? "
3 " One can only worry so much, however; then one becomes philosophical. I suppose philosophy is merely sublimated worry. "
4 " It seems to me that if one could accept existence as it is, partake of it fully, the world could be magical. The cricket on my balcony at the moment piercing the night repeatedly with its hurried needle of sound, would be welcome merely because it is there, rather than an annoyance because it distracts me from what I am trying to do. "
5 " Frightfulness is never more than an unfamiliar pattern. "