June 2012
“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget….Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”
—Arundhati Roy (via pigeongrasse)
“I know now that death is not the loss of memory, but its apotheosis. An apotheosis of light.”
—Edmond Jabès, The Book of Questions I, trans. Rosmarie Waldrop (via proustitute)
“Does the sun ask itself, “Am I good? Am I worthwhile? Is there enough of me?” No, it burns and it shines. Does the sun ask itself, “What does the moon think of me? How does Mars feel about me today?” No it burns, it shines. Does the sun ask itself, “Am I as big as other suns in other galaxies?” No, it burns, it shines.”
—Andrea Dworkin
May 2012
“People are obscenities. Would rather be music than be a mass of tubes squeezing semisolids around itself for a few decades before becoming so dribblesome it’ll no longer function.”
—
- David Mitchell, “Letters from Zedelghem,” Cloud Atlas
“Letters from Zedelghem” and “The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish” are the most humorous sections of this book, a book that I am LOVING. Only about 35 pages left to read and I am equal parts excited and sad to come to its conclusion.
