“When I closed my eyes this sensation of flying was quite delightful, and strange beyond description.” “That is our condition, a culmination of millennia of evolution in human societies, technologies, and habits of mind,” James Gleick wrote in contemplating our civilizational enchantment with speed.
“Learning is discovering, uncovering what is there in us.” “No one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you, must cross the river of life,” Nietzsche wrote in his timeless treatise on education and the journey of becoming who you are.
“Life is a dream. ‘Tis waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life.” Long before psychologists began exploring the curious cognitive mechanism of how our delusions keep us sane, even before the poet W.H.
…and how a greedy attitude to intellectual property made the camera’s primary competitor perish. “Needing to have reality confirmed and experience enhanced by photographs is an aesthetic consumerism to which everyone is now addicted,” Susan Sontag wrote in her timeless and increasingly timely treatise on photography a century and a half after the invention of this worldview-changing technology, making a resounding case for what photography can do that the other arts can’t.
“There was the emotion over what had occurred, and there was also the emotion of knowing that thousands of people, millions of people, maybe all the people in the world, were feeling great emotion over what was occurring.” “This must be the mission of every man of goodwill: to insist, unflaggingly, at risk of becoming a repetitive bore, but to insist on the achievement of a world in which the mind will have triumphed over violence,” legendary composer Leonard Bernstein urged in his stirring clarion call for the only true antidote to violence in response to John F.
“Poetry can break open locked chambers of possibility, restore numbed zones to feeling, recharge desire.” One summer evening not long ago, on a rainy Brooklyn rooftop, a friend — a brilliant friend who studies the cosmos and writes uncommonly poetic novels — stunned me with an improbable, deceptively simple yet enormous question: “What does poetry do?
“The clearest message that we get from this 75-year study is this: Good relationships keep us happier and healthier.” “The good life is one inspired by love and guided by knowledge,” Bertrand Russell wrote in his 1925 treatise on the nature of the good life and how we limit our happiness.
“The bicycle, the bicycle surely, should always be the vehicle of novelists and poets.” “Don’t cultivate a ‘bicycle face,’” an 1895 list of don’ts for women cyclists admonished just before the bicycle became a major vehicle of women’s liberation.
A touching ode to friendship as a kind of mutual memory. “It’s part of the nature of man to start with romance and build to a reality,” Ray Bradbury (August 22, 1920–June 5, 2012) observed in his forgotten 1971 conversation with Carl Sagan and Arthur C.
“Her skin was as soft and tender as a rose petal, and her eyes were as blue as the deep sea, but like all the others she had no feet.
“I don’t believe one ever knows people in their own surroundings; one only knows them away, divorced from all the little strings and cobwebs of habit.” “I simply adore Virginia Woolf… She is both detached and human, silent till she wants to say something, and then says it supremely well,” Vita Sackville-West wrote in a letter to her husband after meeting the famed author with whom she would embark upon one of literature’s greatest romances — a romance that would inspire Woolf’s groundbreaking 1928 novel Orlando, memorably described by Vita’s son as “the longest and most charming love letter in literature.” The origin of that uncommon and uncommonly beautiful love story unfolds in Letters of Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (public library).
From Virgil to JFK’s assassination report, an eclectic fomenting of the cinematic imagination. “Filmmaking — like great literature — must have experience of life at its foundation,” Werner Herzog counseled in his no-nonsense advice to aspiring filmmakers.
“Art is an infinitely precious possession, a refreshing and warming drink that restores the stomach and the mind to the natural balance of the ideal.” A generation before Walt Whitman wrote about why the humanities are essential to democracy, the great French poet, essayist, and critic Charles Baudelaire (April 9, 1821–August 31, 1867) made what remains the most elegant and increasingly timely case for why those in power and those of privilege should use their resources to support art and embrace it as an invaluable political and humanitarian tool.
“Each of our native wild creatures is in itself a precious heritage that we have no right to destroy or put beyond the reach of our children.” The Old West was an era obsessed with “the annihilation of space and time.” In a world where nature’s most fundamental dimensions were the target of a manic quest for mechanical domination, no aspect of nature was safe from such forcible subversion.
“The first sign of disintegration — in a writer — is that the writing loses the unique stamp of his/her character, & loses its inner light.” “Read good books, have good sentences in your ears,” the poet Jane Kenyon counseled in what remains some of the sagest advice to write and live by.
“…a living testament to the incredibly improbable trip that we’re on.” Our lives are shaped by an inescapable confluence of choice and chance.
Exploring the concentric circles of human connection through the lens of our ideal and real selves. Friendship, C.S.
“What makes people good communicators is, in essence, an ability not to be fazed by the more problematic or offbeat aspects of their own characters.” “Words are events, they do things, change things.
“A lack of money, if it be relative, and a lack of comfort can be endured if one is sustained by pride.
“Our intelligence, however lucid, cannot perceive the elements that compose it and remain unsuspected.” “Nature, the soul, love … one recognizes through the heart, and not through the reason,” 16-year-old Dostoyevsky wrote in a beautiful letter to his brother.