Lie, illusion, deception, she said – was that it truly, the universal language we all speak?
It seemed to Rosa Lublin that the whole peninsula of Florida was weighted down with regret. Everyone had left behind a real life. Here they had nothing. They were all scarecrows, blown about under the murdering sunball with empty ribcages.
We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.
When something does not insist on being noticed, when we aren’t grabbed by the collar or struck on the skull by a presence or an event, we take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.
What we remember from childhood we remember forever – permanent ghosts, stamped, inked, imprinted, eternally seen.
To want to be what one can be is purpose in life.
The power of language, it seems to me, is the only kind of power a writer is entitled to.
I’m not afraid of facts, I welcome facts but a congeries of facts is not equivalent to an idea. This is the essential fallacy of the so-called “scientific” mind. People who mistake facts for ideas are incomplete thinkers; they are gossips.
To imagine the unimaginable is the highest use of the imagination.