The light gave him hope but he was afraid of it too. - László Krasznahorkai

Halics’s whole body felt as though it had lost definition and, as for his coat, it had lost whatever resistance to water it once had nor could it protect him from the roaring cataract of fate, or, as he tended to say, “the rain of death in the heart,” a rain that beat, day and night, against both his withered heart and defenseless organs.

Irimiás: God is not made manifest in language, you dope. He's not manifest in anything. He doesn't exist... God was a mistake. I've long understood there is zero difference between me and a bug, or a bug and a river, or a river and a voice shouting above it. There's no sense or meaning in anything. It's nothing but a network of dependency under enormous fluctuating pressures. It's only our imaginations, not our senses, that continually confront us with failure and the false belief that we can raise ourselves by our own bootstraps from the miserable pulp of delay. There's no escaping that, stupid.

Se gandi iar la cotet si la porci, intrucat simti ca la fel cum cei care nu banuiesc ca din providenta ce pluteste deasupra zilelor noastre o sa ramana doar lumina de pe cutitul cu care se injunghie porcul, tot asa nici noi nu banuim nimic, si nici n-o sa aflam vreodata ceva despre acest infricosator adio.