text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
" [...] These days, I own five
sets of encyclopedia from various
eras. None of them ever breathed
a word about the fact that this humming,
aromatic, acid flashback, pungent, tingly
fingered world is acted out differently
for each one of us by the puppet theatre
of our senses. Some of us grow up doing
credible impressions of model citizens
(though sooner of later hairline
cracks appear in our façl;ades). The rest
get dubbed eccentrics, unnerved and undone
by other people's company, for which we
nevertheless pine. Curses, outbursts
and distracting chants simmer all day
long in the Crock-Pots of our heads.
Encyclopedias contain no helpful entries
on conducting life's business while the ruckus
in your skull keeps competing for your
attention [...]
(pp. 30-1, ll. 22-43)",2009-11-11 18:44:17 UTC,"""Curses, outbursts / and distracting chants simmer all day / long in the Crock-Pots of our heads.""",2009-11-11 18:44:17 UTC,"","",,"","","Reading the New York Times Book Review. David Kirby's review, ""Animal Planet."" November 8, 2009.",17509,6600
"[IV. EPITAPH.]
Step lightly on this narrow spot!
The broadest land that grows
Is not so ample as the breast
These emerald seams enclose.
Step lofty; for this name is told
As far as cannon dwell,
Or flag subsist, or fame export
Her deathless syllable.
(p. 185)",2010-12-31 06:10:48 UTC,"""The broadest land that grows / Is not so ample as the breast / These emerald seams enclose.""",2010-12-31 06:10:48 UTC,IV. Time and Eternity,"",,"","",Reading,18085,6782
"Needless to say, all this inward high-school posturing went undisclosed: as noted, I kept no journal then, nor had I any confidante or sidekick. I wouldn't have dreamed of bringing up intimate subjects with my somewhat addled and uncomprehending mother. Though we never discussed it, I know that she was already worried--when she had time to think about it, that was--by my balky ungirlish demeanor and the fact that for some reason my period hadn't started. Nor would it, mortifyingly, until I was almost eighteen. (One's hormones were plainly on strike: talking tough to management and holding out for a better deal.) At the time I left college I had never slept with anybody or even kissed anyone; nor, when you got right down to it, could I really imagine doing so. The idea of sex with a woman, of ""having a lesbian lover,"" was simply unthinkable, like living alone at the North Pole or deciding to become a lycanthrope. If the thought existed at all, it was a mote, a sweet nothing--a little ""feather on the breath of God,"" barely sensed now and then, but mostly hidden away (pace Donald Rumsfeld) in some dastardly psychic dossier labeled ""Unknown Unknowns."" I was innocent--gruesomely so--or that was how it seemed.
(p. 170)",2011-05-18 18:57:10 UTC,"""The idea of sex with a woman, of 'having a lesbian lover,' was simply unthinkable, like living alone at the North Pole or deciding to become a lycanthrope. If the thought existed at all, it was a mote, a sweet nothing--a little 'feather on the breath of God,' barely sensed now and then, but mostly hidden away (pace Donald Rumsfeld) in some dastardly psychic dossier labeled 'Unknown Unknowns.'""",2011-05-18 18:57:10 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,18418,6850
"My dear Madam, contract not your brow into a frown of disapprobation. I mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many errors we are ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid in the recesses of our hearts, which we should blush to have brought into open day (and yet those faults require the lenity and pity of a benevolent judge, or awful would be our prospect of futurity) I say, my dear Madam, when we consider this, we surely may pity the faults of others.
(II.xviii, p. 9; p. 69-70 in Penguin)",2013-05-29 19:29:23 UTC,"""I mean not to extenuate the faults of those unhappy women who fall victims to guilt and folly; but surely, when we reflect how many errors we are ourselves subject to, how many secret faults lie hid in the recesses of our hearts, which we should blush to have brought into open day (and yet those faults require the lenity and pity of a benevolent judge, or awful would be our prospect of futurity) I say, my dear Madam, when we consider this, we surely may pity the faults of others.""",2013-05-29 19:29:23 UTC,Chapter XVIII. Reflections,"",,"","",Reading,20232,7396
"Certain moments send adrenaline to the heart, dry out the tongue, and clog the lungs. Like thunder they drown you in sound, no, like lightning they strike you across the larynx. Cough. After it happened I was at a loss for words. Haven't you said this yourself? Haven't you said this to a close friend who early in your friendship, when distracted, would call you by the name of her black housekeeper? You assumed you two were the only black people in her life. Eventually she stopped doing this, though she never acknowledged her slippage. And you never called her on it (why not?) and yet, you don't forget. If this were a domestic tragedy, and it might well be, this would be your fatal flaw--your memory, vessel of your feelings. Do you feel hurt because it's the ""all black people look the same"" moment, or because you are being confused with another after being so close to this other?
(p. 7)",2015-10-24 05:04:51 UTC,"""If this were a domestic tragedy, and it might well be, this would be your fatal flaw--your memory, vessel of your feelings.""",2015-10-24 05:03:30 UTC,Part I,"",,"","",Reading,24714,8094
"You like to think memory goes far back though remembering was never recommended. Forget all that, the world says. The world's had a lot of practice. No one should adhere to the facts that contribute to narrative, the facts that create lives. To your mind, feelings are what create a person, something unwilling, something wild vandalizing whatever the skull holds. Those sensations form a someone. The headaches begin then. Don't wear sunglasses in the house, the world says, though they soothe, soothe sight, soothe you.
(p. 61)",2015-10-28 20:01:46 UTC,"""To your mind, feelings are what create a person, something unwilling, something wild vandalizing whatever the skull holds.""",2015-10-28 20:00:34 UTC,IV,"",,"","",Reading,24716,8094
"""How do you expect to learn anything when you fill your mind with garbage?"" he said. He crumpled up my paper and threw it in the trash.
My mother came into the room. She had her bathrobe on and her eyes were red. ""What’s garbage?"" she asked.
Edgar blushed. ""Perhaps garbage is a bit strong. I just meant...""
(p. 111)",2015-11-10 23:04:58 UTC,"""'How do you expect to learn anything when you fill your mind with garbage?' he said.""",2015-11-10 23:04:58 UTC,Chapter 13,"",,"","",Reading,24727,8098
"And he will sit there in his truck, both hands on the wheel, smiling with all of his teeth, watching her go. And the wind will be dirty in his hair, and there will be no decent place left in his heart because in all this chasing nothing he will have scrubbed it out, scrubbed it hollow, and nothing can fill it back up but words he makes as beautiful as he can. A sentence that will carry, he hopes, as if it were the wind, as if there were seeds of rush and blue-eyed grass upon it. As if the alphabet could reset his bones, or restart his life.
(p. 208)",2016-06-07 04:10:00 UTC,"""And the wind will be dirty in his hair, and there will be no decent place left in his heart because in all this chasing nothing he will have scrubbed it out, scrubbed it hollow, and nothing can fill it back up but words he makes as beautiful as he can.""",2016-06-07 04:10:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,24915,8149
"""I need a little of this space to do some soul searching, Linnie. I need to test myself. Or. Clean out my heart, you know? It's like a crowded old garage. It needs emptying and sorting.""
(p. 221)",2016-06-07 04:11:05 UTC,"""Clean out my heart, you know? It's like a crowded old garage. It needs emptying and sorting.""",2016-06-07 04:11:05 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,24916,8149
"The pathetic one in the family is you. [...] Get some counseling, mother. You've got a geranium in your cranium.",2018-06-04 13:02:31 UTC,"""You've got a geranium in your cranium.""",2018-06-04 13:02:31 UTC,"","",,"","","Reading Molly Young, ""Wisdom Dispensed With Slaps and Puns: A Sprightly History of Advice-Giving,"" New York Times Book Review (June 1, 2018). <Link to NYTimes.com>",25209,8290