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[27 Dec 2009|09:01pm] |
One knew nothing. One lived and walked about on the earth or rode through the forests, and so many things looked at one with such challenge and promise, rousing such longing: an evening star, a bluebell, a lake green with reeds, the eye of a human being or of a cow, and at times it seemed as if the very next moment something never seen but long yearned for must happen, as if a veil must drop from everything. But then it passed, and nothing happened, and the riddle was not solved, nor was the secret spell lifted, and finally one became old... and perhaps one still knew nothing, would still be waiting and listening.
Hermann Hesse, Narcissus and Goldmund.
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| Savushun by Simin Daneshvar |
[27 Dec 2009|12:35pm] |
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If only the world were in the hands of women, Zari thought. Women give birth. They are creators, and they know the value of their creation, the value of endurance, patience, monotony, and being unable to do anything for oneself. Perhaps because men have never been creators, they'll take any risk to create something. If the world were in the hands of women, how could there be wars? If they take the blessings that you have away from you, what then?
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| A Lion Among Men, Gregory Maguire |
[27 Dec 2009|02:06pm] |
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We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character dulls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know: the price of living is corruption. There isn't as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness.
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| The Last Bottle (part III) |
[27 Dec 2009|12:39pm] |
The coffee shop in which we had been sitting was a dimly lit kind of place with all kinds of pretentious art crap cluttering the walls. I’m sure that at any given moment, one could easily find a patron there who enjoys the kind of garbage I’m asking you to read. I can say with some certainty, however, that finding a Nicholas Sparks lover there would be very unusual. It was not the sort of place someone who reads Nicholas Sparks would sit and read Nicholas Sparks. That would be embarrassing in such a hip and intellectual place as the coffee shop.
( Read more... )
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| Empire Falls - Richard Russo |
[27 Dec 2009|01:15pm] |
"And that's the thing, she concludes. Just because things happen slow doesn't mean you'll be ready for them. If they happened fast, you'd be alert for all kinds of suddenness, aware that speed was trump. "Slow" works on an altogether different principle, on the deceptive impression that there's plenty of time to prepare, which conceals the central fact, that no matter how slow things go, you'll always be slower."
"In a way, John Voss is like Jesus - blameless, perhaps, but nevertheless the center of all the trouble... Dead? Is that what she means? She hopes not. No one could want this boy, this child who had dangled from a laundry bag inside a dark closet, not to exist. Merely for him not to exist here, because here has proven to be the wrong place. She feels like Jesus' disciples must've felt. They never wanted him crucified, of course, but what a relief it must have been when the stone was rolled across the entrance to the tomb, sealing everything shut so they could go back to being fishermen, which they knew how to do, rather than fishers of men, which they didn't. No wonder they didn't recognize him later on the road to Emmaus. They didn't want to, any more than Tick wants to welcome this poor boy back into their midst."
-Empire Falls - Richard Russo
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[26 Dec 2009|11:51pm] |
"What chatty Madam Shpolyanski mentioned had conjured up Mira's image with unusual force. This was disturbing. Only in the detachment of an incurable complaint, in the sanity of near death, could one cope with this for a moment. In order to exist rationally, Pnin had taught himself...never to remember Mira Belochkin - not because...the evocation of a youthful love affair, banal and brief, threatened his peace of mind...but because, if one were quite sincere with oneself, no conscience, and hence no consciousness, could be expected to subsist in a world where such things as Mira's death were possible. One had to forget - because one could not live with the thought that this graceful, fragile, tender young woman with those eyes, that smile, those gardens and snows in the background, had been brought in a cattle car and killed by an injection of phenol into the heart, into the gentle heart one had heard beating under one's lips in the dusk of the past."
- Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin
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| question |
[26 Dec 2009|08:27pm] |
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So, I have been writing an outline/ key scenes for a graphic novel. It is a sci fi adventure that takes place in 1930's dustbowl. I had some questions about research.
1.) How in depth do you all go into for research. I mean should I be a stickler or can I bend the rules a bit and make things not so historically accurate?
2.) what is a good resource about writing and letting your audience know it is in a certain time period without starting the first chapter, "It was a cold morning in the fall of 1932."
Thanks in advance!
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| Neil Gaiman - American Gods |
[26 Dec 2009|07:47pm] |
"Liberty," boomed Wednesday, as they walked to the car, "is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses."
"Yeah?" said Shadow.
"Quoting," said Wednesday. "Quoting someone French. That's who they have a statue to, in their New York harbor: a bitch who liked to be fucked on the refuse from the tumbril. Hold your torch as high as you want to, m'dear, there's still rats in your dress and cold jism dripping down your leg."
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