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“While we are looking for the antidote or the medicine to cure us, that is, the 'new', which can only be found by plunging deep into the Unknown, we have to go on exploring sex, books, and travel, although we know that they lead us to the abyss, which, as it happens, is the only place where the antidote can be found.”
― Roberto Bolano(Literature+Illness=Illness)

“For a while, Criticism travels side by side with the Work, then Criticism vanishes and it's the Readers who keep pace. The journey may be long or short. Then the Readers die one by one and the Work continues on alone, although a new Criticism and new Readers gradually fall into step with it along its path. Then Criticism dies again and the Readers die again and the Work passes over a trail of bones on its journey toward solitude. To come near the work, to sail in her wake, is a sign of certain death, but new Criticism and new Readers approach her tirelessly and relentlessly and are devoured by time and speed. Finally the Work journeys irremediably alone in the Great Vastness. And one day the Work dies, as all things must die and come to an end: the Sun and the Earth and the Solar System and the Galaxy and the farthest reaches of man's memory. Everything that begins as comedy ends in tragedy.”
― Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives

“For me, the word "writing" is the exact opposite of the word "waiting". Instead of waiting, there is writing.”
― Roberto Bolano

“So I ended up being an anarchist. I was the only anarchist I knew and thank god, because otherwise I would have stopped being an anarchist. Unanimity pisses me off immensely.”
― Roberto Bolaño

“So Lorenzo grew up in Chile without arms, an unfortunate situation for any child, but he also grew up in Pinochet’s Chile, which turned unfortunate situations into desperate ones, on top of which he soon discovered that he was homosexual, which made his already desperate situation inconceivable and indescribable. Given these circumstances, it is not surprising that Lorenzo became an artist. (What else could he do?)”
― Roberto Bolaño

“Dostum Borges aynalardan neden nefret ediyorsa ben de aynı nedenle ses kayıt cihazından nefret ediyorum, dedim. Siz Borges'in arkadaşı mıydınız, diye sordu Arturo Belano, bana biraz saldırgan gelen bir ses tonuyla, ÅŸaşırmış gibiydi. Artık uzaklarda kalan gençlik günlerimizde oldukça yakın arkadaÅŸtık, hem de çok yakın denebilir, diye cevap verdim. Kuzey Amerikalı kız Borges'in neden ses kayıt cihazından nefret ettiÄŸini sordu. Herhalde kör olduÄŸu için, dedim Ä°ngilizce olarak. Körlükle bu cihazın ne ilgisi var, diye sordu. Duymanın içerdiÄŸi tehlikeleri hatırlatıyor olmalı, kendi sesini, kendi ayak sesini, düşmanlarının ayak seslerini duymak, diye yanıtladım. Kuzey Amerikalı kız yüzüme bakarak onayladı. Borges'i pek iyi tanıdığını sanmıyorum. Benim eserlerimi bildiÄŸiniyse hiç sanmıyorum, gerçi John Dos Passos Ä°ngilizceye çevirmiÅŸti. John Dos Passos'u da pek bildiÄŸini sanmıyorum.”
― Roberto Bolaño

“Inaki Echavarne, Giardinetto barı, Granada del Penedes sokağı, Barselona, Haziran 1994. EleÅŸtiri, bir süre Yapıt'a eÅŸlik eder, sonra yok olur ve bu kez yapıta Okurlar eÅŸlik eder. Yolculuk uzun da olabilir kısa da. Sonra da Okurlar birer birer ölür ve Yapıt yoluna yalnız devam eder, derken baÅŸka EleÅŸtiriler ve baÅŸka Okurlar çıkar yoluna. Sonra EleÅŸtiri bir kez daha ölür, Okurlar bir kez daha ölür, Yapıt bu kemik yığını üzerinden geçerek yalnızlıklara yolculuÄŸunu sürdürür. Yapıt'a yaklaÅŸmak, gemiyi onun aydınlığında yüzdürmek kesin ölümün yanılmaz iÅŸaretidir, oysa baÅŸka EleÅŸtiriler ve baÅŸka Okurlar durmaksızın yanaşırlar Yapıt'a, zaman hızla yutar onları da. Sonunda, Yapıt Sonsuzlukta yalnız sürdürür yolculuÄŸunu. Ve bir gün, her ÅŸey gibi Yapıt da ölür, tıpkı GüneÅŸ'in söneceÄŸi, Yerkürenin, GüneÅŸ Sisteminin ve Yıldızların, insanoÄŸlunun yok olacağı gibi. Komedi gibi baÅŸlayan her ÅŸey trajedi olarak son buluyor.”
― Roberto Bolaño, The Savage Detectives

“A metafora az egyik módja, hogy elvesszünk a látszat világában, vagy hogy mozdulatlanul álljunk a látszat tengerében.”
― Roberto Bolaño

“The root of all my ills, thought Amalfitano sometimes, is my admiration for Jews, homosexuals, and revolutionaries (true revo-lutionaries, the romantics and the dangerous madmen, not the apparatchiks of the Communist Party of Chile or its despicable thugs, those hideous gray beings. The root of all my ills, he thought, is my admiration for a certain kind of junkie (not the poet junkie or the artist junkie but the straight-up junkie, the kind you rarely come across, the kind who almost literally gnaws at himself, the kind like a black hole or a black eye, with no hands or legs, a black eye that never opens or closes, the Lost Witness of the Tribe, the kind who seems to cling to drugs in the same way that drugs cling to him. The root of all my ills is my admiration for delinquents, whores, the mentally disturbed, said Amalfitano to himself with bitterness. When I was an adolescent I wanted to be a Jew, a Bol-shevik, black, homosexual, a junkie, half-crazy, and the crowning touch- a one-armed amputee, but all I became was a literature professor. At least, thought Amalfitano, I've read thousands of books. At least I've become acquainted with the Poets and read the Novels. (The Poets, in Amalfitano's view, were those beings who flashed like lightning bolts, and the Novels were the stories that sprang from Don Quixote). At least I've read. At least I can still read, he said to himself, at once dubious and hopeful.”
― Roberto Bolaño, Woes of the True Policeman