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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 7401764 | quien dijo que la coincidencia es la manera que Dios tiene de permanecer anonimo? | Donna Tartt | ||
| 9413158 | And this is either a completely disastrous question or the most sensible one I've ever asked in all my life. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 4bc8e30 | but anything overtly religious filled him with a pagan alarm; and I believe that like Pliny, whom he resembled in so many respects, he secretly thought it to be a degenerate cult carried to extravagant lengths. | Donna Tartt | ||
| cc2d44f | lo extrano era mas bien descubrir en el presente un fragmento tan brillante del pasado vivo, danado y erosionado pero no destruido. | Donna Tartt | ||
| bbe7249 | Hobie had an iron constitution. Whenever he came down with something himself, he drank a Fernet-Branca and kept going. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 79ff9eb | Death is the mother of Beauty. And what is Beauty? Terror. | Donna Tartt | ||
| f4d5e4a | But it's so heartbreaking and unnecessary how we lose things. From pure carelessness. Fires, wars. The Parthenon, used as a munitions storehouse. I guess that anything we manage to save from history is a miracle. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 2b7ae16 | There's only a double abyss: between painter and imprisoned bird; between the record he left of the bird and our experience of it, centuries later. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 9b0c8bc | I don't know where to begin." He paused, and took a drink. "Do you remember last fall, in Julian's class, when we studied what Plato calls telestic madness? Bakcheia? Dionysiac frenzy?" "Yes,"I said rather impatiently. It was just like Henry to bring up something like this right now. "Well, we decided to try to have one." For a moment I thought I hadn't understood him. "What?" I said? "I said we decided to try to have a bacchanal." | Donna Tartt | ||
| 16658c2 | They understood not only evil, it seemed, but the extravagance of tricks with which evil presents itself as good. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 19ee19d | Silver--well, Bobo was actually not so bad guy. 'The Mensch'? | Donna Tartt | ||
| 8bf1db9 | I am not unused to being confronted with my ow lies, but those of others never fail to throw me for a loop. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 24b4913 | What if you had never seen the sea before? What if the only thing you'd ever seen was a child's picture - blue crayon, choppy waves? Would you know the real sea if you only knew the picture? Would you be able to recognize the real thing even if you saw it? | Donna Tartt | ||
| 512b9a1 | You wan't to know what Classics are?" said a drunk Dean of Admissions to me at a faculty party a couple of years ago. "I'll tell you what Clasdics are. War and homos." A sententious and vulgar statement, certainly, but like many such gnomic vulgarities, it also contains a tiny splinter of truth." | Donna Tartt | ||
| 3b00c7a | but ever since the painting had vanished from under me I'd felt drowned and extinguished by vastness--not just the predictable vastness of time, and space, but the impassable distances between people even when they were within arm's reach of each other, | Donna Tartt | ||
| 7b6fd46 | A goodbye at the gate," said Hobie. He seemed to be talking partly to himself. "That's what he would have wanted. The parting glimpse, the death haiku--he wouldn't have liked to leave without stopping to speak to someone along the way. 'A teahouse amid the cherry blossoms, on the way to death." | Donna Tartt | ||
| fe73466 | I had to say goodbye to her once before, but it took everything I had to say goodbye to her then, again, for the last time, like poor Orpheus turning for a last backwards glance at the ghost of his only love and in the same heartbeat losing her forever: hinc illae lacrimae, hence those tears. | Donna Tartt | ||
| f9beab1 | It was an obscure specialization, but the candlelit and treacherous universe in which they moved - of sin unpunished, of innocence destroyed - was one I found appealing. Even the titles of their plays were strangely seductive, trapdoors to something beautiful and wicked that trickled beneath the surface of mortality: The Malcontent. The White Devil. The Broken Heart. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 139cba6 | I don't think anything lives up to what you envisioned. | Amber Benson | ||
| 556259c | between 'reality' on the one hand, and the point where the mind strikes reality, there's a middle zone, a rainbow edge where beauty comes into being, where two very different surfaces mingle and blur to provide what life does not: and this is the space where all art exists, and all magic. | Donna Tartt | ||
| b01dfb0 | How Robin would have loved this!' the aunts used to say fondly. 'How Robin would have laughed!' In truth, Robin had been a giddy, fickle child - somber at odd moments, practically hysterical at others - and in life, this unpredictability had been a great part of his charm. But his younger sisters, who had never in any proper sense known him at all, nonetheless grew up certain of their dead brother's favorite color (red); his favorite book (.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 39d454f | He did touch people's lives, the lives of strangers, in an entirely unanticipated way. It was they who really mourned him - or what they thought was him - with a grief that was no less sharp for not being intimate with its object. | Donna Tartt | ||
| c5201a6 | I felt my heart limping in my chest, and was revolted by it, a pitiful muscle, sick and bloody, pulsing against my ribs. | Donna Tartt | ||
| dea2db3 | Welty himself used to talk about fateful objects. Every dealer and antiquaire recognizes them. The pieces that occur and recur. Maybe for someone else, not a dealer, it wouldn't be an object. It'd be a city, a color, a time of day. The nail where your fate is liable to catch and snag. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 1dd1a4a | glared at Danny with her wolfish eyes, and | Donna Tartt | ||
| cac8309 | the world is much stranger than we know or can say. And I know how you think, or how you like to think, but maybe this is one instance where you can't boil down to pure 'good' or pure 'bad' like you always want to do--? Like, your two different piles? Bad over here, good over here? Maybe not quite so simple. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 6356408 | Si sper ca exista aici si un adevar mai mare despre suferinta, sau cel putin despre felul cum o inteleg eu - desi am ajuns sa-mi dau seama ca singurele adevaruri care conteaza pentru mine sunt cele pe care nu le inteleg si nu le pot intelege. Ceea ce e misterios, ambiguu, inexplicabil. Ceea ce nu poate fi inchis intr-o poveste, nu are o poveste. O sclipire de lumina pe un lant abia schitat. Un petic de lumina solara pe un perete galben. Sin.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| f1e3628 | It was nothing I hadn't thought of, plenty, and in far less taxing circumstances; the urge shook me grandly and unpredictably, a poisonous whisper that never wholly left me, that on some days lingered just on the threshold of my hearing but on others roared up uncontrollably into a sort of lurid visionary frenzy, why I wasn't sure, sometimes even a bad movie or a gruesome dinner party could trigger it, short term boredom and long term pain,.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| a9ce81e | And yet (this was the murky part, this was what bothered me) there had also been other, way more confusing and fucked-up nights, grappling around half-dressed, weak light sliding in from the bathroom and everything haloed and unstable without my glasses: hands on each other, rough and fast, kicked-over beers foaming on the carpet - fun and not that big of a deal when it was actually happening, more than worth it for the sharp gasp when my e.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| a0c401b | In the first week of April the weather turned suddenly, unseasonably, insistently lovely. The sky was blue, the air warm and windless, and the sun beamed on the muddy ground with all the sweet impatience of June. Toward the fringe of the wood, the young trees were yellow with the first tinge of new leaves; woodpeckers laughed and drummed in the copses and, lying in bed with my window open, I could hear the rush and gurgle of the melted snow.. | joy spring weather | Donna Tartt | |
| 569ddc3 | No--" his hands came together on the table--"it was one of the first antiques I ever bought, thirty years ago. In an American Folk sale. I'm not a great one for the folk art, never have been--this piece, not of the first quality, doesn't fit with anything else I own, and yet isn't it always the inappropriate thing, the thing that doesn't quite work, that's oddly the dearest?" | Donna Tartt | ||
| 1f5b335 | relief, | Donna Tartt | ||
| 4165b6f | Tara: Sweetie, you wouldn't blow off a class if your head was on fire. | Amber Benson | ||
| 9017c55 | Willow: Hey, clothes.Tara: Better not get used to 'em. | Amber Benson | ||
| 7d9dcee | But now, at news of his death, people was strangely frantic. Everyone suddenly had know him. Everyone was deranged with grief. Everyone was just gonna have to trying to get on as well as they could whiteout him. "He would have wanted it that way" That was a phrase i heard many times that week on the lips of people who had absolutely no idea what Bunny wanted." | Donna Tartt | ||
| 64236e9 | Viewed close: a freckled hand against a black coat, an origami frog tipped over on its side. Step away, and the illusion snaps in again: life-more-than-life, never-dying. Pippa herself is the play between those things, both love and not-love, there and not-there. Photographs on the wall, a balled-up sock under the sofa. The moment where I reached to brush a piece of fluff from her hair and she laughed and ducked at my touch. And just as mus.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 4e06ffa | Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only -- if you take care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn't it? And isn't the whole point of things -- beautiful things -- that they connect you to some larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another? Because, I mean -- mending old things, preserving them, looking .. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 0b64b47 | They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover--because Pippa was exactly that girl, not the prettiest, but the no-makeup and kind of ordinary-looking girl he'd chosen to be happy with, and in fact that picture was an i.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 478d952 | Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only-if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn't it? And isn't the whole point of things-beautiful things-that they connect you to some larger beauty? Those first images that crack your heart wide open and you spend the rest of your life chasing, or trying to recapture, in one way or another? | Donna Tartt | ||
| c7dae90 | There's no meanness too spiteful or too cruel when we hate someone for all the wrong reasons. | Gregory David Roberts | ||
| c3d8e66 | They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover -- because Pippa was exactly that girl, not the prettiest, but the no-makeup and kind of ordinary-looking girl he'd chosen to be happy with, and in fact that picture was an.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| 762d7ff | steep taper, seven day timetable, plenty of loperamide; magnesium supplements and free form amino acids to replenish my burnt-out neurotransmitters; protein powder, electrolyte powder, melatonin (and weed) for sleep as well as various herbal tinctures and potions my fashion intern swore by, licorice root and milk thistle, nettles and hops and black cumin seed oil, valerian root and skullcap extract. I had a shopping bag from the health food.. | Donna Tartt | ||
| c544a48 | Ma dopotutto non e sempre l'elemento fuori posto, quello che non funziona alla perfezione, che stranamente finiamo per amare di piu? | Donna Tartt | ||
| 88d5ec7 | Penso a cio che mi disse Hobie: la bellezza cambia la venatura della realta. E continuo a pensare anche a una verita piu convenzionale: ovvero, che la ricerca della bellezza pura e una trappola, una scorciatoia per l'amarezza e il dolore, che la bellezza dev'essere sempre associata a qualcosa di piu profondo. Ma cos'e quel qualcosa? Perche sono fatto cosi? Perche tengo alle cose sbagliate, e non mi curo di quelle giuste? O, per metterla in .. | Donna Tartt |