I like to remember things my own way. How I remembered them, not necessarily the way they happened. — David Lynch, Lost Highway. (Faber & Faber, March 1, 1997)
Winter then in its early and clear stages, was a purifying engine that ran unhindered over city and country, alerting the stars to sparkle violently and shower their silver light into the arms of bare upreaching trees. It was a mad and beautiful thing that scoured raw the souls of animals and man, driving them… Continue reading Mark Helprin
They’re not that different from you, are they? Same haircuts. Full of hormones, just like you. Invincible, just like you feel. The world is their oyster. They believe they’re destined for great things, just like many of you, their eyes are full of hope, just like you. Did they wait until it was too late… Continue reading N.H. Kleinbaum
I learned that just beneath the surface there’s another world, and still different worlds as you dig deeper. I knew it as a kid, but I couldn’t find the proof. It was just a kind of feeling. There is goodness in blue skies and flowers, but another force—a wild pain and decay—also accompanies everything. —… Continue reading David Lynch
What is hardest to accept about the passage of time is that the people who once mattered the most to us wind up in parentheses. ― John Irving, The Cider House Rules. (Thorndike Press July 2000) Originally published 1985.