December 2011
14 posts
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“History is everywhere. It seeps into the soil, the subsoil. Like rain, or hail,...”
– -Edna O’Brien, House of Splendid Isolation
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“You told me once that spring makes you feel as if you’ve lost or forgotten...”
– -Viktor Shklovsky, ZOO, or Letters Not About Love
I’m getting a bit tired of this unseasonable weather.
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“Every man with a keen eye is familiar with those anonymously retold passages...”
– -Vladimir Nabokov, Despair
The more you say it, the more it feels like just a story—not your story.
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“It is so difficult—at least, I find it difficult—to understand...”
– -E. M. Forster, A Room with a View
Ending the week with a bit of humor.
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“Men of profound sadness betray themselves when they are happy: they have a way...”
– -Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil
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“The lover can see, and the knowledgeable.”
– -Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
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“Droll thing life is—that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a...”
– -Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
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“We had stopped at the floor our rooms were on. She went straight down the hall...”
– -Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
To me, this is what intimacy is.
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“All plots tend to move deathward. This is the nature of plots. Political plots,...”
– -Don DeLillo, White Noise
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“…she deserves a finer destiny than to pass from belated adolescence to premature...”
– -Truman Capote, “New York”
This week I had a bit of a theme going. I’ve decided to end it by getting a little real. 