Joseph Joubert, quoted in Bartleby & Co.
Look at yourselves. Are you not all walking citations? To the extent you see yourself and your Duracell soul as snowflakes, crystalline, fragile and exquisitely and individually wrought, recall that snowflakes seem quite different shoveled en mass on the sidewalk, that they melt on the tongue to no one’s satisfaction, and that they are, in essence, water briefly clustered around dust.
David Shields, “Prologue: In which I discuss another book as a way to throw into bold relief what this book is about,” How Literature Saved My Life
Often [Borges]’d ask me to write something down on the endpaper pages of the book we were reading - - a chapter reference or a thought. I don’t know how he made use of these, but the habit of speaking of a book behind it’s back became mine too.
Alberto Manguel, “The Last Pages,” The History of Reading
I once had a garden filled with flowers that grew only on dark thoughts but they need constant attention and one day I decided I had better things to do.
Brian Andreas (via ratak-monodosico)
Charles Perrault (via thetinhouse)
But in order to truly understand what I was seeing and feeling, I had to articulate the facts with new words. And from the moment I started writing, from the day I went to the Dheisheh refugee camp and encountered a reality that until that time I had lacked the words to describe, I felt something I had not felt for years, certainly not in the political context: that consciousness, in any situation, is always free to choose to face reality in a different, new way. That writing about reality is the simplest way not to be a victim.
David Grossman, “Books That Have Read Me,” Writing in the Dark: Essays on Literature and Politics.
Ken Price, “Venus,” 2000