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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| f8531df | I DIDN'T STOP giving hand jobs because I wasn't good at it. I stopped giving hand jobs because I was the best at it. For three years, I gave the best hand job in the tristate area. The key is to not overthink it. If you start worrying about technique, if you begin analyzing rhythm and pressure, you lose the essential nature of the act. You have to mentally prepare beforehand, and then you have to stop thinking and trust your body to take ov.. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 98b5d7b | I think of that, too: her mind. Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain and sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy? | centipedes gone-girl love over-thinking relationships the-mind the-unknown thinking-process thoughts | Gillian Flynn | |
| 41f09f0 | People whispered comfort about Marian being called back to heaven, but my mother would not be distracted from her grief. To this day it remains a hobby. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 7823971 | Millions of dollars later, and neither of them were happy. Money is wasted on the rich. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| a06566a | Sometimes that's what happens. No cigarette burns, no bone snaps. Just an irretrievable slipping. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 9a9fb2c | inside joke is like a symbol of friendship without having to do the work required of an actual friendship. So | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 1fed89d | No one saves an e-mail, because it's so inherently impersonal. I worry about posterity in general. All the great love letters - from Simone de Beauvoir to Sartre, from Samuel Clemens to his wife, Olivia - I don't know, I always think about what will be lost - | Gillian Flynn | ||
| e7862ee | It infects you. It ruined me. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 22a275b | I have one memory that catches in me like a nasty clump of blood. Marian was dead about two years, and my mother had a cluster of friends over for afternoon drinks. One of them brought a baby. For hours, the child was cooed over, smothered with red-lipstick kisses, tidied up with tissues, then lipstick smacked again. I was supposed to be reading in my room, but I sat at the top of the stairs watching. My mother finally was handed the baby,.. | Gillian Flynn | ||
| 112886a | What these men represented was not 'The West' but what was for this century a relatively new kind of monied class in America, a group devoid of social responsibilities because their ties to any one place had been so attenuated. | politics | Joan Didion | |
| a598532 | When we lose that sense of the possible we lose it fast. One day we are absorbed by dressing well, following the news, keeping up, coping, what we might call staying alive; the next day we are not. | Joan Didion | ||
| 15eb164 | Quintana's christening was in 1966, this Christian Dior show was two years later, 1968: 1966 and 1968 were a world removed from each other in the political and cultural life of the United States but they were for women who presented themselves a certain way the same time. It was a way of looking, it was a way of being. It was a period. What became of that way of looking, that way of being, that time, that period? What became of the women sm.. | Joan Didion | ||
| 5e86fa8 | the child trying not to appear as a child, of the strenuousness with which she tried to present the face of a convincing adult. | childhood effort stress | Joan Didion | |
| e068c7b | We are not talking here about the kind of notebook that is patently for public consumption, a structural conceit for binding together a series of graceful pensees. We are talking about something private, about bits of the mind's string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its maker. | Joan Didion | ||
| 2d1b027 | I was thinking as small children think, as if my thoughts or wishes had the power to reverse the narrative, | Joan Didion | ||
| 860968e | the contemporary trend was "to treat mourning as morbid self-indulgence, and to give social admiration to the bereaved who hide their grief so fully that no one would guess anything had happened." | Joan Didion | ||
| 12ff13e | Time passes. Memory fades, memory adjusts, memory conforms to what we think we remember. | Joan Didion | ||
| a1bd446 | As it happens I am comfortable with the Michael Laskis of this world, with those who live outside rather than in, those in whom the sense of dread is so acute that they turn to extreme and doomed commitments; I know something about dread myself, and appreciate the elaborate systems with which some people manage to fill the void, appreciate all the opiates of the people, whether they are as accessible as alcohol and heroin and promiscuity or.. | marxism | Joan Didion | |
| fd48d9e | Raised to believe that her life would be, as her great-grandmother's was said to have been, one ceaseless round of fixed and settled principles, aims, motives, and activity, she could sometimes think of nothing to do but walk downtown, check out the Bon Marche for clothes she could not afford, buy a cracked crab for dinner and take a taxi home. | Joan Didion | ||
| 77c69c9 | The stories are endless, infinitely familiar, traded by the faithful like baseball cards, fondled until they fray around the edges and blur into the apocryphal. | Joan Didion | ||
| 3945151 | So weak, so little left, time running out. I will be robbed of my old age. I try not to feel bitter about it, but sometimes I can't help myself. Life is shit, I know, but the only thing I want is more life, more years on this godforsaken earth. | Paul Auster | ||
| cd6c2c0 | but back then, at thirty-five, thirty-eight, forty, I walked around with a feeling that my life had never truly belonged to me, that I had never truly inhabited myself, that i had never been real. And because I wasn't real, I didn't understand the effect I had on others, the damage I could cause, the hurt I could inflict on the people who loved me. | paul auster | ||
| aeac674 | MR. BONES KNEW THAT WILLY WASN'T LONG FOR THIS WORLD. The cough had been inside him for over six months, and by now there wasn't a chance in hell that he would ever get rid of it. Slowly and inexorably, without once taking a turn for the better, the thing had assumed a life of its own, advancing from a faint, phlegm-filled rattle in the lungs on February third to the wheezy sputum-jigs and gobby convulsions of high summer. All that was bad .. | Paul Auster | ||
| 5e58d14 | Books force you to give something back to them, to exercise your intelligence and imagination. | Paul Auster | ||
| 7a7aeb1 | There were no rules when it came to writing, he said. Take a close look at the lives of poets and novelists, and what you wound up with was unalloyed chaos, an infinite jumble of exceptions. That was because writing was a disease, Tom continued, what you might call an infection or influenza of the spirit, and therefore it could strike anyone at any time. The young and the old, the strong and the weak, the drunk and the sober, the sane and t.. | Paul Auster | ||
| 53ef48c | Do you know what happened the last time a nation listened to a bush?" Honey asks. No one says a word. "Its people wandered in the desert for forty years." | Paul Auster | ||
| 407b0e4 | But money, of course, is never just money. It's always something else, and it's always something more, and it always has the last word. | Paul Auster | ||
| 77f3716 | So it goes as I work my way down the page, and each cluster of marks is a word, and each word is a sound in my head, and each time I write another word, I hear the sound of my own voice, even though my lips are silent. | Paul Auster | ||
| 6abe75c | Nadie puede decir de donde proviene un libro, y menos que nadie la persona que lo escribe. Los libros nacen de la ignorancia , y si continuan viviendo despues de escritos es solo en la medidad en que no pueden entenderse. | Paul Auster | ||
| 4929ee0 | People pushed by force of habit, pushed for the pure pleasure of pushing, and they would go on pushing until you showed them you were willing to push back, at which point you would earn their respect. | Paul Auster | ||
| ac991f3 | Anything was possible, and just because things happened in one way didn't mean they couldn' t happen in another. | Paul Auster | ||
| fb52610 | It is also true that memory sometimes comes to him as a voice. It is a voice that speaks inside him, and it is not necessarily his own. It speaks to him in the way a voice might tell stories to a child, and yet at times this voice makes fun of him, or calls him to attention, or curses him in no uncertain terms. At times it willfully distorts the story it is telling him, changing the facts to suit its whims, catering to the interests of dram.. | voice | Paul Auster | |
| 2a28e9f | Most other people, your wife included, with her unerring inner compass, seem to be able to get around without difficulty. They know where they are, where they have been, and where they are going, but you know nothing, you are forever lost in the moment, in the void of each successive moment that engulfs you, with no idea where true north is, since the four cardinal points do not exist for you, have never existed for you. A minor infirmity u.. | Paul Auster | ||
| 84aa72a | By wandering aimlessly, all places became equal, and it no longer mattered where he was. | Paul Auster | ||
| 0c29a58 | A crisscross of light and shadow began to form on the pavement in front of him, and it was a beautiful thing to behold, he felt, a small, unexpected gift on the heels of such sadness and pain. | Paul Auster | ||
| 2b122ef | Our lives are no more than the sum of manifold contingencies, and no matter how diverse they might be in their details, they all share an essential randomness in their design: this then that, and because of that, this. | Paul Auster | ||
| eb3e542 | sysh`rk b'nh m mn shy ystfzh, w'nh l yHtj l'y shy yqdmh hdh l`lm. rjl bl shhy@." " | Paul Auster | ||
| 4a8f0d9 | and if he could survive the experience without completely losing heart, then perhaps there was some hope for him after all. By sticking with the cab, he wasn't trying to make the best of a bad situation. He was looking for a way to make things happen, and until he understood what those things were, he wouldn't have the right to release himself from his bondage. | Paul Auster | ||
| 2bf5e89 | More often than not, these attempts at sociability ended in painful silence. His old friends, who remembered him as a brilliant student and wickedly funny conversationalist, were appalled by what had happened to him. Tom had slipped from the ranks of the anointed, and his downfall seemed to shake their confidence in themselves, to open the door onto a new pessimism about their own prospects in life. It didn't help matters that Tom had gaine.. | Paul Auster | ||
| a2e286d | he had understood that memory was a place, a real place that one could visit, and that to spend a few moments among the dead was not necessarily bad for you, that it could in fact be a source of great comfort and happiness. | Paul Auster | ||
| 1d4c731 | l 'Hd ytSl fy lthmn@ SbHan fy ywm l`Tl@ wn HSl dhlk fhw lnql 'khbr l tstTy` lntZr, hdhh l'khbr tkwn `d@an syy'@. | Paul Auster | ||
| 74cf69b | gana kit`xva uxilavis sakut`ari t`valit` danaxvis xelovneba ar aris? gana kit`xvis silamaze im sich`umeshi araa, shen garshemo rom isadgurebs, sanam ambavshi mt`lianad xar ch`az'iruli? gana am dros shenshi avtoris xma ar icqebs zhg'eras, rat`a sxva danarch`eni xma da xmauri gadap`aros? | reading | Paul Auster | |
| 6a0d458 | Lo que realmente me asombra no es que todo este derrumbado, sino la gran cantidad de cosas que todavia siguen en pie. | Paul Auster | ||
| 638b3f4 | Normal. What did normal mean, Ferguson asked himself , and why wasn't it normal for him to feel the way he did about wanting to kiss and make love to other boys, the sex of one-sex was just as normal and natural as the sex of two-sex sex, maybe even more normal and more natural because a cock was something boys understood better than girls, and therefore it was easier to know what the other person wanted without having to guess, without hav.. | Paul Auster |