Wenn ich tot bin, werde ich Lokomotivführer.

Ulrich Koch, “Selbst in hoher Auflösung”

Ich glaube an Menschen, die nervös sind und deren Hände ein bisschen zittern.

Deborah Levy, “Was das Leben kostet”

The clouds told him their names in the quiet of the summer afternoon. But when he asked the evening clouds, “Have you seen Mary and Priscilla?,” he got no reply. This was a dour and mute bunch. They turned their gray backs on him and drifted over toward Sturgis, where a farmer had just shot a sick horse.

Charles Simic, “The World Doesn’t End”

…the appearance of relative solidity in my grandmother’s house was deceptive. It was an impression created by the piano, and the scrolled couch, and the bookcases full of almanacs and Kipling and Defoe. For all the appearance these things gave of substance and solidity, they might better be considered a dangerous weight on a frail structure. I could easily imagine the piano crashing to the cellar floor with a thrum of all its strings. And then, too, our house should not have had a second story, for, if it fell while we were sleeping, we would plummet disastrously through the dark, knowing no more perhaps than that our dreams were suddenly terrible and suddenly gone.

Marylinne Robinson, “Housekeeping”