February 2012
“V is a kind of pale, transparent pink: I think it’s called, technically, quartz...”
– Vladimir Nabokov, author of Lolita, on being a synaesthete.
Steve Silberman profiles synaesthesia in Inside the Mind of a Synaesthete.
“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swaps...”
– Ayn Rand
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1 tag
“Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter’s evening, when dusk almost hides...”
– Virginia Woolf, Night and Day
“Long after her death I felt her thoughts floating through mine. Long before we...”
– Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
“I felt homesick, but I was home.”
– Sarah Silverman, on depression
1 tag
“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to...”
– Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral”
“their heart grew cold
they let their wings down”
– Sappho, fragment translated by Anne Carson in If Not, Winter
“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
– John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
“Our best yesterdays are now foul piles of crumpled names.”
– Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov
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“More and more, it feels like I’m doing a really bad impersonation of myself.”
– Chuck Palahniuk
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“Something miraculous springs
from the next sentence, but already
you’d skimmed...”
– Noah Eli Gordon, A Theory of the Novel
“And when two people have loved each other
see how it is like a
scar between...”
– Jane Hirshfield, from “For What Binds Us”
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“I closed the box and put it in a closet. There is no real way to deal with...”
– Joan Didion
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“The outrage is tiresome and deeply hypocritical, in all the tiresome ways you’ve...”
– Sasha Frere-Jones on MIA’s middle finger and everyone else’s panties being in a bunch over it.
“I think of the chimp, the one with the talking hands.
In the course of the...”
– In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried, Amy Hempel
“Il n’y a pas d’amour de vivre sans désespoir de vivre. (There is not love of...”
– Albert Camus - L’Envers et l’Endroit (1937)