“The world is a book. Those who do not travel read only a page.” ~St. Augustine.
“New York City is a panic attack on Houston and Essex, it’s a broken down Q train, it’s a 45 minute schlep to work. New York City is finding yourself in your friend’s ex-girlfriend’s most recent ex-boyfriend’s apartment, it’s a roof in Brooklyn, it’s a bar in the East Village. New York City is a fake ID that expired 3 years ago, it’s an $8 show that changed your life, it’s a kitten found in a box 2 blocks from the office. New York City is a text message that was never responded to, it’s a photo pass to your favorite concert, it’s free drinks on a ship in mid-July. New York City is being in love with everyone you see, it’s a cup of coffee that makes you crazy, it’s your friend putting lipstick on you outside the venue 10 minutes before the show. New York City is platform shoes, it’s a pair of Converse, it’s taking a couple of Advil when you get home. New York City is thrifted treasure, it’s a stoop sale that saved your life, it’s the best cup of cocoa chai you’ve ever had. New York City is a sweaty room full of BK’s hippest, it’s missing an opportunity only to get another, it’s a lot of anxiously waiting. New York City is realizing your dream, it’s passing your current boss’s girlfriend on campus, it’s an iChat that got sent to the wrong person. New York City is a library full of tired kids, it’s a brownstone full of addicts, it’s a dorm room full of outsiders. New York City is a laugh attack in a quiet room, it’s a crick in your neck, it’s a stack of vinyl in your desk drawer. New York City is a walk to the waterfront, it’s an endless conversation, it’s 4 cups of tea in one work day. New York City is a revelation, it’s an exchange of words with the nicest stranger, it’s a never-ending beginning.” ~ unknown
“I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald
“A world in which there are monsters, and ghosts, and things that want to steal your heart is a world in which there are angels, and dreams and a world in which there is hope.” ~Neil Gaiman
“I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.” ~Jeffrey McDaniel
“Sometimes words are not enough.” ~Lemony Snicket
“All the books we own, both read and unread, are the fullest expression of self we have at our disposal. …But with each passing year, and with each whimsical purchase, our libraries become more and more able to articulate who we are, whether we read the books or not.” ~Nick Hornby
“I shambled after as usual as I’ve been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people that interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to life, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing…but burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night.” ~Jack Kerouac
“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” ~Jack Kerouac
“Only with absolute fearlessness can we slay the dragons of mediocrity that invade our gardens.” ~George Lois
“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ~Pablo Picasso
“In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many of them you can get through, but how many can get through you — how many you can make your own.” ~How to Mark a Good Book-Adler
“The bravest people are the ones who don’t mind looking like cowards.” ~T.H. White, The Once & Future King
“I have always had more dread of a pen, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper than of a sword or pistol.” ~Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
“”Most maidens are perfectly capable of rescuing themselves in my experience, at least the ones worth something, in any case.” ~Eric Morgenstern
“The library was like a stone quarry where no rain had fallen in ten thousand years.
Way off in that direction: silence.
Way off in that direction: hush.
It was the time between things finished and things begun. Nobody died here. Nobody was born. The library, and all its books, just were.” ~Ray Bradbury’s ‘I Sing the Body Electric’
“If a man is only as good as his word,
then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours.
The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian
in the same sentence — that really turns me on.
The way you describe the oranges in your backyard
using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath.
I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue
wrapping around your diction
until listening become more like dreaming
and dreaming became more like kissing you.
I want to jump off the cliff of your voice
into the suicide of your stream of consciousness.
I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die.
I want to map it out with a dictionary and points
of brilliant light until it looks more like a star chart
than a strategy for communication.
I want to see where your words are born.
I want to find a pattern in the astrology.
I want to memorize the scripts of your seductions.
I want to live in the long-winded epics of your disappointments,
in the haiku of your epiphanies.
I want to know all the names you’ve given your desires.
I want to find my name among them,
‘cause there is nothing more wrecking sexy than the right word.
I want to thank whoever told you
there was no such thing as a synonym.
I want to throw a party for the heartbreak
that turned you into a poet.
And if it is true that a man is only as good as his word
then, sweet jesus, let me be there
the first time you are speechless,
and all your explosive wisdom becomes
a burning ball of sun in your throat,
and all you can bring yourself to utter is, oh god, oh god.”
“She is too fond of books, and it has turned her brain.” ~Louisa May Alcott, Work: A Story of Experience