September 29, 2013

What he loved in horses was what he loved in men, the blood and the heat of the blood that ran them. All his reverence and all his fondness and all the leanings of his life were for the ardenthearted and they would always be so and never be otherwise.

Cormac McCarthy, "All The Pretty Horses"

September 27, 2013

The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there?

John Berryman.

September 25, 2013

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

E.E. Cummings

September 21, 2013

There is no hatred in my love for you. Only a sadness I feel all the more strongly for my inability to explain or describe it.

David Foster Wallace.
(Derek Paul Boyle)

September 19, 2013

Early tomorrow morning I'll take the train out of Penn Station to Montauk. It's a three hour trip, and I can't wait to curl up next to the window with a thermos of coffee and a stack of letters to answer. Any chance to get out of the city, albeit for 28 hours is a delight.

September 14, 2013

Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.

David Foster Wallace.

September 12, 2013

September 10, 2013

It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.

Joan Didion.

September 9, 2013

That's why families are so important. Other people walk out the door and they're gone! 

Marilynne Robinson.

September 8, 2013

not wanting me.
the beginning of me.
wanting myself.
thank you.

Navvirah Waheed.

September 6, 2013

September 5, 2013

The world was ending then, is ending still, and I'm happy to belong to it.

Jonathan Franzen.

September 2, 2013

(Confezioni Crosby)

September 1, 2013

… in the early days when we were very poor and very happy.

Ernest Hemingway.