All of a sudden, images from every crime movie I'd ever seen began to pop into my mind—the windowless room, the harsh lights and narrow hallways, images which did not seem so much theatrical or foreig...
More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I'd stopped myself from blurting the thing I'd never said, even though it was something we both knew well eno...
«La gente muore, questo è un dato di fatto» diceva la mamma. «Ma il modo in cui perdiamo le cose è insensato e terribile. Per incuria. Incendi, guerre. Il Partenone utilizzato come un magazzino per le...
That surge of power and delight, of confidence, of control. That sudden sense of the richness of the world. Its infinite possibility.
And I'm hoping there's some larger truth about suffering here, or at least my understanding of it - although I've come to realize that the only truths that matter to me are the ones I don't, and can't...
The most satisfying of languages, Latin.
Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before
And if what they say is true--if every great painting is really a self-portrait--what, if anything, is Fabritius saying about himself?
Silver—well, Bobo was actually not so bad guy. ‘The Mensch’?
I mean, this man was not /Voltaire/ we killed.
None of us ever find enough kindness in the world, do we?
Colors so bright, they nearly broke my heart.
. . is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?
What if the pattern is pre-set? No no – hang on
The idea of losing control is one that fascinates controlled people such as ourselves more than almost anything.
And yet she was wholly herself: a rarity.
Affectionate exasperated breath I knew
Why am I made the way I am? Why do I care about all the wrong things, and nothing at all for the right ones? Or, to tip it another way: how can I see clearly that everything I love or care about is il...
They too, knew this beautiful and harrowing landscape; they'd had the same experience of looking up from their books with fifth-century eyes and finding the world disconcertingly sluggish and alien, a...
Maybe good luck was like bad luck in that it took awhile for it to sink in. You don't feel anything at first. The feeling came later on.