If you like:



The minutes are hauling themselves by like a shot Hollywood gangster crawling down a corridor.



Many minds redirect memories along revised maps.






I wish I could go into their room and sit down with them. I’d give them my Rolex for that. I wish they would smile, and pour me a cup of jasmine tea. I wish the world was like that.



The communists had organized all the farms in the Valley into communes. … Nobody owned the land, so nobody made sure it was respected.



Grudges are demons that gnaw away your bone marrow. Time was already doing a good enough job of that.



Lord Buddha has often told me that forgiveness is vital to life. I agree. Not for the well-being of the forgiven, though, but for the well-being of the forgiver.



Frothing tapeworms of blood were wriggling free from my lover’s eyes and nostrils.



The English are a devious race. A nation of homosexuals, vegetarians, and third-rate spies.



I’ve never saved anyone’s life before. It felt as ordinary as collecting photographs from Boots the Chemist. Slightly exciting beforehand, but basically a let-down.



Nothing often poses in men as wisdom.
Once a shit shoveler, always a shit shoveler.



…you might like Ghostwritten by David Mitchell.




One thought on “Ghostwritten”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s