I will take the world at its word and allow that there are those who have experienced great love in their lives. This must be so. So much fuss is made over it. It follows that there are others who have loved but came to realize over time that what they had was merely the shadow of a greater possibility.
Not that I get a lot of notes on anything that I post but I just realized that I have never had any on the literary quotes I’ve posted. This leads me to the question, Do people who use Tumblr read books?
I don’t save lives,” Zelikman said. “I just prolong their futility.
The clerk shrugged and said that all of Mexico was a collage of diverse and wide-ranging homages.
“Every single thing in this country is an homage to everything in the world, even the things that haven’t happened yet,” he said.
Impossible things happen. When they do happen, most people just deal with it. Today, like every day, roughly five thousand people on the face of the planet will experience one-chance-in-a-million things, and not one of them will refuse to believe the evidence of their own senses.
You’re always mentioning people that I don’t know and that I never heard of and you mention them,” he said, “in a way that makes me think I’m supposed to know who you’re talking about when as a matter of fact I couldn’t possibly.
These failed actors and writers, a mob that’s never created worthwhile art, they’re now offering to carry the train of Miss Kathie’s gown, hoping to hitch a ride with her to immortality.
Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves. This inward blame has been a treasure for the rich and powerful, who have had to do less for their poor, publicly and privately, than any other ruling class since, say, Napoleonic times.
This bird, when it isn’t shrieking, says only one thing. Flea taught it what to say. He put a sign on its cage the reads TELL ME I’M STUPID. So you say to the bird, “Okay, you’re stupid,” and the bird says, real sarcastic, “I can talk-can you fly?”
Flea could have opened in Vegas with that. But there is no cozying up to a bird.
The things I’ve seen I can’t explain are nothing next to what I’ve heard-musical sand, whispering lakes, a shout whose echo came back as a song.
Oh, I’ve heard stranger things than that, but those were in my head.