Also, she had a cat and she p...

Also, she had a cat and she played the guitar. On days when the sun was strong, she would wash her hair, and together with the cat, a red tiger-stripedtom, sit out on the fire escape thumbing a guitar while her hair dried. Whenever I heard the music, I would go stand quietly by my window. She played very well, and sometimes sang too. Sang in the hoarse, breakingtones of a boy‘s adolescent voice. - P19

But our acquaintance did not make headway until September, an evening with the first ripple-chills of autumn running through it. I‘d been to a movie, come home, and gone to bed with a bourbon nightcap and the newest Simenon: so much my idea of comfort that I couldn‘t understand a sense of unease that multiplied until I could hear my heart beating. It was a feeling I‘d read about, written about, but never before experienced. The feeling of being watched. Of someone in the room. Then: an abrupt rapping at the window, a glimpse of ghostly grey: I spilled the bourbon. It was some little while before I could bring myself to open the window, and ask Miss Golightly what she wanted. - P20

‘Listen, you can throw me out if you want to. I‘ve got a gall barging in on you like this. But that fire escape was damned icy. And you looked so cosy. Like my brother Fred. We used to sleep four in a bed, and he was the only one that ever let me hug him on a cold night. By the way, do you mind if I call you Fred?‘
She‘d come completely into the room now, and she paused there, staring at me. I‘d never seen her before not wearing dark glasses, and it was obvious now that they were prescription lenses, for without them her eyes had an assessing squint, like a jeweller‘s. They were large eyes, a little blue, a little green, dotted with bits of brown: vari-coloured, like her hair; and, like her hair, they gave out a lively warm light.
‘I suppose you think I‘m very brazen. Or très fou. Or something.‘
‘Not at all.‘
She seemed disappointed. ‘Yes, you do. Everybody does. I don‘t mind. It‘s useful.‘ - P21

‘I don‘t. I‘ll never get used to anything. Anybody that does, they might as well be dead.‘ Her dispraising eyes surveyed the room again. ‘What do you do here all day?‘ - P22

"That‘s not bad. I can‘t get excited by a man until he‘s forty-two. I know this idiot girl who keeps telling me I ought to go to a head-shrinker; she says I have a father complex. Which is so much merde. Isimply trained myself to like older men, and it was the smartest thing I ever did. How old is W. Somerset Maugham?‘ - P22

As they sang they took turns ...

As they sang they took turns spin-dancing a girl over the cobbles under the El; and the girl, Miss Golightly, to be sure, floated round in their arms light as a scarf. - P18

The same source made it evident that she received V-letters by the bale. They were always torn into strips like bookmarks. I used occasionally to pluck myself a bookmark in passing. Remember and miss you and rain and please write and damn and goddamn were the words that recurred most often on these slips; those, and lonesome and love. - P19

[오늘의 한문장] Breakfast at Tiffany's

"The next time a girl wants a little powder-room change,‘ she called, not teasing at all, ‘take my advice, darling: don‘t give her twenty-cents!‘ - P16

[오늘의 한문장] The New York Trilogy

It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not. Much later, when he was able to think about the things that happened to him, he would conclude that nothing was real except chance. But that was much later. In the beginning, there was simply the event and its consequences. Whether it might have turned out differently, or whether it was all predetermined with the first word that came from the stranger’s mouth, is not the question. The question is the story itself, and whether or not it means something is not for the story to tell. - P68

그 일은 잘못 걸려 온 전화로 시작되었다. 한밤중에 ...

그 일은 잘못 걸려 온 전화로 시작되었다. 한밤중에 전화벨이 세 번 울리고 나서 엉뚱한 사람을 찾는 목소리가 들려오는 것으로. 훨씬 나중에, 그러니까 자기에게 무슨 일들이 일어났는지를 생각해 볼 수 있게 되었을 때, 그는 우연 말고는 정말인 것이 아무것도 없다는 결론을 내리게 될 터였다. 하지만 그것은 훨씬 뒤의 일이다. 처음에는 단지 사건과 결과가 있었을 뿐이다. 그 일이 다르게 끝이 났건, 낯선 사람의 입에서 나온 첫마디로 미리 정해진 것이었건, 그것은 문제가 되지 않는다. 문제는 이야기 그 자체이며, 그것에 어떤 의미가 있느냐 없느냐는 여기서 할 이야기가 아니다. - <뉴욕 3부작>, 폴 오스터 / 황보석 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/179563571 - P7

그는 1년 중 다섯 달이나 여섯 달 동안만 소설을 썼으므로 나머지 시간에는 자기가 하고 싶은 일을 얼마든지 마음대로 할 수 있었다. 이런 저런 책을 읽고 그림을 관람하고 영화를 보러 다니면서. 여름이면 그는 텔레비전으로 방영되는 야구 경기를 지켜보았고 겨울에는 오페라를 보러 갔다. 하지만 그가 무엇보다도 좋아한 것은 걷는 일이었다. 거의 매일같이, 날씨가 궂건 좋건, 춥건 덥건, 그는 아파트를 나서서 시내를 이리저리 돌아다니곤 했다. ─ 사실은 어디를 찾아가려는 것이 아니라, 그저 어디든 발길 닿는 대로. - <뉴욕 3부작>, 폴 오스터 / 황보석 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/179563571 - P8