Listening to: “Your Rocky Spine” – Great Lake Swimmers

Just a collection of quotes I’ve heard/read recently. No particular order, no particular theme. Figured I’d fling them out into the Blogoverse for the pigeons and such to peck at.


Our existence deforms the universe. That’s responsibility.
~ Neil Gaiman, The Sandman: The Kindly Ones


If or when I do start going to an analyst, I hope to God he has the foresight to let a dermatologist sit in on consultation. A hand specialist. I have scars on my hands from touching certain people. Once, in the park, when Franny was still in the carriage, I put my hand on the downy pate of her head and left it there too long. Another time, at Loew’s Seventy-second Street, with Zooey during a spooky movie. He was about six or seven, and he went under the seat to avoid watching a scary scene. I put my hand on his head. Certain heads, certain colors and textures of human hair leave permanent marks on me. Other things, too. Charlotte once ran away from me, outside the studio, and I grabbed her dress to stop her, to keep her near me. A yellow cotton dress I loved because it was too long for her. I still have a lemon-yellow mark on the palm of my right hand. Oh, God, if I’m anything by a clinical name, I’m a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.
~ J.D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters


Can I take you to a restaurant
That’s got
glass tables?
You can watch yourself
While you are eating.

~ The English Beat, “Mirror in the Bathroom”


I don’t like to think of myself as depressed so much as paralyzed by hope.
~ Maria Bamford


Outside Bagel Rising in Allston:
GUY: Are you interested in food?
GIRL: Yeah, but not fucking hipster fucking bagels.


Motion is not a condition
but a desire
to be outside of one’s self
and all desire must be swept away

~ August Kleinzahler, The Strange Hours Travelers Keep


Spending warm Summer days indoors
Writing frightening verse
To a buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg…

~ The Smiths, “Ask”


Can you pour me more… mac-a-toasted flakes?
~ my roommate, attempting to request Frosted Mini Wheats


The worst imaginable kind of fascism would be
if the soul belonged only to the living,
and not to the dust and stones!

~ Tomaz Salamun


It falls into the sea
minutely, vermilion.
And the fish and shrimp
moving near the surface turn pink
under its glow, and the glimmer of flashbulbs
from the balconies.

There must be a signature somewhere,
some identifying technique, a puzzle
for us on the balconies to see pink and distorted
through our drinks.

The light is pulling away from us, its colors
becoming classical, our rooms becoming more important.
The trees are sighing.
In the summer they might have been whistling, cooing,
but tonight they’re sighing.

~ Matthew Rohrer, “What Light Does in the Fall”