Malcolm Lowry
Malcolm Lowry
Clarence Malcolm Lowrywas an English poet and novelist who is best known for his 1947 novel Under the Volcano, which was voted No. 11 in the Modern Library 100 Best Novels list...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth28 July 1909
men assassins convince
How shall the murdered man convince his assassin he will not haunt him.
men weakness helping
What I have absolutely no sympathy with is the legislator, the man who seeks, for his own profit, to exploit the weaknesses of those who are unable to help themselves and then to fasten some moral superscription upon it. This I loathe so much that I cannot conceivably explain how much it is.
men doe cry
Only against death does man cry out in vain.
stupid responsibility men
To say nothing of what you lose, lose, lose, are losing, man. You fool, you stupid fool ... You've even been insulated from the responsibility of genuine suffering ... Even the suffering you do endure is largely unnecessary. Actually spurious. It lacks the very basis you require of it for its tragic nature. You deceive yourself.
men soul littles
What is man but a little soul holding up a corpse?
compared others perhaps war
War is being declared tomorrow here so perhaps you can understand that I have been working under difficulties, but difficulties negligible compared with what others have to go through.
form
Mexico... is the most Christ-awful place in the world to be in any form of distress.
english-poet novel simply skip
The novel can be read simply as a story which you can skip if you want. It can be read as a story you will get more out of if you don't skip.
aftermath english-poet pain
Long for me as I for you, forgetting, what will be inevitable, the long black aftermath of pain.
guilt tragedy earth
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.
war flames littles
In the war to come correspondents would assume unheard of importance, plunging through flame to feed the public its little gobbets of dehydrated excrement.
thinking land names
No, my secrets are of the grave and must be kept. And this is how I sometimes think of myself, as a great explorer who has discovered some extraordinary land from which he can never return to give his knowledge to the world: but the name of this land is hell.
heart moon night
God, how pointless and empty the world is! Days filled with cheap and tarnished moments succeed each other, restless and haunted nights follow in bitter routine: the sun shines without brightness, and the moon rises without light. My heart has the taste of ashes, and my throat is tight and weary with weeping. What is a lost soul? It is one that has turned from its true path and is groping in the darkness of remembered ways—
thinking earth hell
Never think that by releasing me you will be free. You would only condemn us to an ultimate hell on earth. You would only free something else to destroy us both.