Yoon Kim
@yoonkim.bsky.social
“But you’ve had too much Marcel.” 😂
(from Nabokov’s Ada, or Ardor)
(from Nabokov’s Ada, or Ardor)
April 19, 2025 at 5:12 PM
“But you’ve had too much Marcel.” 😂
(from Nabokov’s Ada, or Ardor)
(from Nabokov’s Ada, or Ardor)
“Making a book could mean exchanging the ‘void of writing’ for ‘writing the void.’ . . .
Writing is the dawning solitude of the letter.”
— Edmond Jabès
(“Letter from Yukel to Sarah,” The Book of Margins, tr. Waldrop)
Writing is the dawning solitude of the letter.”
— Edmond Jabès
(“Letter from Yukel to Sarah,” The Book of Margins, tr. Waldrop)
April 19, 2025 at 4:20 PM
“Making a book could mean exchanging the ‘void of writing’ for ‘writing the void.’ . . .
Writing is the dawning solitude of the letter.”
— Edmond Jabès
(“Letter from Yukel to Sarah,” The Book of Margins, tr. Waldrop)
Writing is the dawning solitude of the letter.”
— Edmond Jabès
(“Letter from Yukel to Sarah,” The Book of Margins, tr. Waldrop)
“There is no single self. There are not ten selves. There is no self. SELF is but a point of equilibrium. (One among a thousand others, always possible, always at the ready.) An averaged ‘self,’ a crowd movement. In the name of the many, I sign this book.”
— Henri Michaux
— Henri Michaux
April 18, 2025 at 4:58 PM
“There is no single self. There are not ten selves. There is no self. SELF is but a point of equilibrium. (One among a thousand others, always possible, always at the ready.) An averaged ‘self,’ a crowd movement. In the name of the many, I sign this book.”
— Henri Michaux
— Henri Michaux
“I don’t find solitude agonising . . . Holes in paper open and take me fathoms from anywhere.”
— Beckett in a letter (Jan. 26, 1959)
— Beckett in a letter (Jan. 26, 1959)
April 13, 2025 at 3:33 PM
“I don’t find solitude agonising . . . Holes in paper open and take me fathoms from anywhere.”
— Beckett in a letter (Jan. 26, 1959)
— Beckett in a letter (Jan. 26, 1959)
“When there is nothing left, there will still be sand. There will still be the desert to conjugate the nothing.”
— Edmond Jabès
— Edmond Jabès
April 11, 2025 at 5:37 PM
“When there is nothing left, there will still be sand. There will still be the desert to conjugate the nothing.”
— Edmond Jabès
— Edmond Jabès
“Death itself would be that final silence that has never been attenuated by its imitations.”
— from Bataille’s 1951 review of Beckett’s Molloy (tr. Jean M. Sommermeyer):
— from Bataille’s 1951 review of Beckett’s Molloy (tr. Jean M. Sommermeyer):
April 11, 2025 at 3:41 PM
“Death itself would be that final silence that has never been attenuated by its imitations.”
— from Bataille’s 1951 review of Beckett’s Molloy (tr. Jean M. Sommermeyer):
— from Bataille’s 1951 review of Beckett’s Molloy (tr. Jean M. Sommermeyer):
Hélène Cixous (in her first tribute to Lispector):
“A woman’s voice came to me from far away, like a voice from a birth-town, it brought me insights that I once had, intimate insights, naïve and knowing, ancient and fresh like the yellow and violet color of freshias rediscovered…”
“A woman’s voice came to me from far away, like a voice from a birth-town, it brought me insights that I once had, intimate insights, naïve and knowing, ancient and fresh like the yellow and violet color of freshias rediscovered…”
April 1, 2025 at 5:16 PM
Hélène Cixous (in her first tribute to Lispector):
“A woman’s voice came to me from far away, like a voice from a birth-town, it brought me insights that I once had, intimate insights, naïve and knowing, ancient and fresh like the yellow and violet color of freshias rediscovered…”
“A woman’s voice came to me from far away, like a voice from a birth-town, it brought me insights that I once had, intimate insights, naïve and knowing, ancient and fresh like the yellow and violet color of freshias rediscovered…”
“But now, having removed the layer of words from things, now that he’d lost the language, he was finally standing in the calm profundity of the mystery.”
(Lispector, The Apple in the Dark)
(Lispector, The Apple in the Dark)
March 31, 2025 at 6:25 PM
“But now, having removed the layer of words from things, now that he’d lost the language, he was finally standing in the calm profundity of the mystery.”
(Lispector, The Apple in the Dark)
(Lispector, The Apple in the Dark)
The epigraph to Lispector’s The Apple in the Dark:
March 31, 2025 at 6:21 PM
The epigraph to Lispector’s The Apple in the Dark:
“The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million…”
— Henry James
Rereading Murnane 🖤
— Henry James
Rereading Murnane 🖤
March 27, 2025 at 7:14 PM
“The house of fiction has in short not one window, but a million…”
— Henry James
Rereading Murnane 🖤
— Henry James
Rereading Murnane 🖤
Thomas Bernhard, at 5 years old, with his mother.
March 22, 2025 at 6:03 PM
Thomas Bernhard, at 5 years old, with his mother.
“Writers are on the whole the most repulsive people, I told Gambetti.” 😂
(Thomas Bernhard, Extinction)
(Thomas Bernhard, Extinction)
March 22, 2025 at 5:23 PM
“Writers are on the whole the most repulsive people, I told Gambetti.” 😂
(Thomas Bernhard, Extinction)
(Thomas Bernhard, Extinction)
🎹 a little morning Haydn
(Here’s a snippet of me playing Hob. XVI:50, 1st mvt.) Hope you enjoy! 🥰
(Here’s a snippet of me playing Hob. XVI:50, 1st mvt.) Hope you enjoy! 🥰
March 22, 2025 at 2:40 PM
🎹 a little morning Haydn
(Here’s a snippet of me playing Hob. XVI:50, 1st mvt.) Hope you enjoy! 🥰
(Here’s a snippet of me playing Hob. XVI:50, 1st mvt.) Hope you enjoy! 🥰
“When I began writing, what I was seeking, it seems, was to materialize the space and depth of a certain unbounded, imaginative effervescence, like shouting into a dark cave to measure its dimensions based on the echo.”
— Julien Gracq
(Reading Writing, tr. Jeanine Herman)
— Julien Gracq
(Reading Writing, tr. Jeanine Herman)
March 21, 2025 at 3:31 PM
“When I began writing, what I was seeking, it seems, was to materialize the space and depth of a certain unbounded, imaginative effervescence, like shouting into a dark cave to measure its dimensions based on the echo.”
— Julien Gracq
(Reading Writing, tr. Jeanine Herman)
— Julien Gracq
(Reading Writing, tr. Jeanine Herman)
Julien Gracq on Huysmans:
“All the linked and supple movement of the discourse that animates a book, that gives it a slant, a terracing of levels, a perspective, has been frozen in him; his books resemble an edifice of rare stones shattered by an earthquake; [+]
“All the linked and supple movement of the discourse that animates a book, that gives it a slant, a terracing of levels, a perspective, has been frozen in him; his books resemble an edifice of rare stones shattered by an earthquake; [+]
March 21, 2025 at 3:24 PM
Julien Gracq on Huysmans:
“All the linked and supple movement of the discourse that animates a book, that gives it a slant, a terracing of levels, a perspective, has been frozen in him; his books resemble an edifice of rare stones shattered by an earthquake; [+]
“All the linked and supple movement of the discourse that animates a book, that gives it a slant, a terracing of levels, a perspective, has been frozen in him; his books resemble an edifice of rare stones shattered by an earthquake; [+]
So looking forward to reading this.
Dag Solstad, Novel 11, Book 18
(translated from the Norwegian by Sverre Lyngstad)
Dag Solstad, Novel 11, Book 18
(translated from the Norwegian by Sverre Lyngstad)
March 18, 2025 at 6:05 PM
So looking forward to reading this.
Dag Solstad, Novel 11, Book 18
(translated from the Norwegian by Sverre Lyngstad)
Dag Solstad, Novel 11, Book 18
(translated from the Norwegian by Sverre Lyngstad)
“I shall read a passage of Shakespeare every Sunday at ten o Clock—you read one at the same time and we shall be as near each other as blind bodies can be in the same room.”
— John Keats, in a letter to George and Georgiana Keats, December 1818
— John Keats, in a letter to George and Georgiana Keats, December 1818
March 16, 2025 at 4:24 PM
“I shall read a passage of Shakespeare every Sunday at ten o Clock—you read one at the same time and we shall be as near each other as blind bodies can be in the same room.”
— John Keats, in a letter to George and Georgiana Keats, December 1818
— John Keats, in a letter to George and Georgiana Keats, December 1818
Took a little stroll 🍃
March 14, 2025 at 6:58 PM
Took a little stroll 🍃