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Roberto Bolano Biography

Roberto Bolaño Ávalos (Spanish: [roˈβerto βoˈlaɲo ˈaβalos] ( listen); 28 April 1953 – 15 July 2003) was a Chilean novelist, short-story writer, poet and essayist. In 1999, Bolaño won the Rómulo Gallegos Prize for his novel Los detectives salvajes (The Savage Detectives), and in 2008 he was posthumously awarded the National Book Critics Circle Award for Fiction for his novel 2666, which was described by board member Marcela Valdes as a "work so rich and dazzling that it will surely draw readers and scholars for ages". The New York Times described him as "the most significant Latin American literary voice of his generation".

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Roberto Bolano Quotes

The pain, or the memory of pain, that here was literally sucked away by something nameless until only a void was left. The knowledge that this question was possible: pain that turns finally into emptiness. The knowledge that the same equation applied to everything, more or less.

Everything, Left, Memories, Memory, Pain, Void

I'm an educated man, the prisons I know are subtle ones.

Educated, Know, Men, Prison, Prisons, Subtle

…I realized my happiness was artificial. I felt happy because I saw the others were happy and because I knew I should feel happy, but I wasn't really happy.

Saws, Should, Feels, Felt, Artificial, Happy

Reading is more important than writing.

Important, Reading, Writing

Nothing is ever behind us.

Behinds, Nothing, Past

The truth is we never stop being children, terrible children covered in sores and knotty veins and tumors and age spots, but ultimately children, in other words we never stop clinging to life because we are life.

Children, Age, Veins, Truth, Stop

The secret story is the one we'll never know, although we're living it from day to day, thinking we're alive, thinking we've got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn't matter.

Alive, Day, Secret, Stories, Story, Thinking

I'll tell you, my friends: it's all in the nerves. The nerves that tense and relax as you approach the edges of companionship and love. The razor-sharp edges of companionship and love.

And Love, Edges, Nerves, Relax, Tense

I'd obviously never heard of the group, but my ignorance in literary matters is to blame for that (every book in the world is out there waiting to be read by me).

Book, Group, Ignorance, Obviously, Waiting

For a moment the two of them looked at each other, wordless, as if they were asleep and their dreams had converged on common ground, a place where sound was alien.

Asleep, Dream, Ground, Sound, Two

Every hundred feet the world changes

Changes, Feet, Hundred, Inspirational, Travel, World

So everything lets us down, including curiosity and honesty and what we love best. Yes, said the voice, but cheer up, it's fun in the end.

Cheer, Honesty, Fun, Including, Love

There is a time for reciting poems and a time for fists.

Fists, Poems, Reciting, Struggle

Metaphors are our way of losing ourselves in semblances or treading water in a sea of seeming.

Metaphors, Sea, Semblances, Water, Way

Poetry is the one thing that isn't contaminated, the one thing that isn't part of the game.

Game, Games, Poetry, Poetry Is, Thing

That's a pretty story,' said Afanasievna as she let go of Ansky's genitals. 'A pity I'm too old and have seen to much to believe it. ' It has nothing to do with belief,' said Ansky, 'it has to do with understanding, and then changing.

Ansky, Believe, Letting Go, Old, Understanding

You have to know how to look even if you don't know what you're looking for.

Know, Know How, Knows, Look, Looking, Looks

Nothing good ever comes of love. What comes of love is always something better

Good, Love, Love Is, Nothing, Something Better

Of what is lost, irretrievably lost, all I wish to recover is the daily availability of my writing, lines capable of grasping me by the hair and lifting me up when I'm at the end of my strength. (Significant, said the foreigner. ) Odes to the human and the divine. Let my writing be like the verses of by Leopardi that Daniel Biga recited on a Nordic bridge to gird himself with courage.

Availability, Biga, Gird, Hair, Strength, Writing

Then he went out without touching anything and put his arm around Ingeborg, and like that, with their arms around each other, they returned to the village while the whole past of the universe fell on their heads.

Heads, Past, Touching, Universe, Village

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