Normality is a paved road: It's comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it. -Vincent van Gogh

theparisreview:

The art collector George Costakis devoted his life “to unearthing masterworks of the Russian avant-garde … but his enthusiasm met with obstacles: the difficulty of tracking down the works, the neglect they had suffered, the disbelief of widows (‘What do you see in them?’). In a dacha outside Moscow he found a Constructivist masterpiece being used to close up a window; the owner wouldn’t part with it. He dashed to the city to fetch a piece of plywood the same size, ferried it back to the dacha, and swapped it for the painting.”
For more of this morning’s roundup, click here.

theparisreview:

The art collector George Costakis devoted his life “to unearthing masterworks of the Russian avant-garde … but his enthusiasm met with obstacles: the difficulty of tracking down the works, the neglect they had suffered, the disbelief of widows (‘What do you see in them?’). In a dacha outside Moscow he found a Constructivist masterpiece being used to close up a window; the owner wouldn’t part with it. He dashed to the city to fetch a piece of plywood the same size, ferried it back to the dacha, and swapped it for the painting.”

For more of this morning’s roundup, click here.

It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain. To let it be, to travel with it, as Velutha did, is much the harder thing to do.

Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things (via quoted-books)

Everybody is identical in their secret unspoken belief that way deep down they are different from everyone else.

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via quotes-shape-us)

I knew every raindrop by its name, I sensed everything before it happened. Like I knew a certain oldsmobile would stop even before it slowed, and by the sweet voices of the family inside, I knew we’d have an accident in the rain. I didn’t care. They said they’d take me all the way.

Denis Johnson, Jesus’ Son (via thethorninhisside)

… Shakespeare
had just candles, lamps,

Milton had only the
dark, and what difference? as
poetry, like failure, is fathered
in any intensity of light, and light
in all thicknesses of darkness,

as your voice, you out there,
wakes now, please, to say
it with me: There
are descents more final, less graceful
than this plummeting …

Denis Johnson, from “Falling,” in Inner Weather (Graywolf Press, 1976)

Ancora Imparo.

I am still learning.

Michelangelo Buonarroti.

This one of the most important things that you can ever remind yourself of. The human mind is designed to acquire knowledge and, the moment it ceases to be fed, it grows stale and sedentary. So ensure that, however you choose to live you life, you are continually presented with new experiences and fresh sources of information. Whether it be how to correctly tie a knot, about the first Emperor of China’s proclivity for consuming mercury or maybe just what it feels like to have your heart broken for the third time in a row, learn!

(via ravingcelt009)

Lessons of the Functions

  • Extraverted Sensing: There is always more to be experienced, and opportunities don't last.
  • Introverted Sensing: There is always a comparison to be made, and if it is familiar, it is to be trusted.
  • Extraverted Intuiting: There are always other potential perspectives and new meanings to discover.
  • Introverted Intuiting: There is always a future to realize and a significance to be revealed.
  • Extraverted Thinking: Everything and everyone can be logical, strutured, and organized.
  • Introverted Thinking: Everything can be explained and understood in terms of its underlying principles.
  • Extraverted Feeling: Everything can be considered in terms of how it affects other people.
  • Introverted Feeling: Everything can be brought into harmony or congruence if you truly believe it can be.
theparisreview:

“An author once told me that your novel is always perfect until you write the first sentence, and then it’s ruined forever. I think about that statement a lot. I think about a frozen river and the hours, days, it took to freeze over—and how easy it is to shatter its surface with one stone.”
On Ploughshares, our own Justin Alvarez on thinking about writing too much to write.

theparisreview:

“An author once told me that your novel is always perfect until you write the first sentence, and then it’s ruined forever. I think about that statement a lot. I think about a frozen river and the hours, days, it took to freeze over—and how easy it is to shatter its surface with one stone.”

On Ploughshares, our own Justin Alvarez on thinking about writing too much to write.

He liked to read with the silence and the golden color of the whiskey as his companions. He liked food, people, talk, but reading was an inexhaustible pleasure. What the joys of music were to others, words on a page were to him.

James Salter, All That Is


I’ve tumbled this before, but do I need a reason to share it again? No, I do not.

(via rebeccaschinsky)

92y:

Sam Waterston, Charlotte Rampling  and Robie Porter in James Salter's lost film, “Three” (1969).
Susan Sontag introduced James Salter at a 92Y reading in 1997 with “If he can be described as a writer’s writer, then I think it’s just as true to say he’s a reader’s writer; that is, he’s a writer who particularly rewards those for whom reading is an intense pleasure and something that is a bit of an addiction. I myself put James Salter among the very few North American writers all of whose work I want to read and whose as yet unpublished books I wait for impatiently.”
Salter returns to 92Y on Monday night (Apr 29) with Richard Ford.
Zoom Info
92y:

Sam Waterston, Charlotte Rampling  and Robie Porter in James Salter's lost film, “Three” (1969).
Susan Sontag introduced James Salter at a 92Y reading in 1997 with “If he can be described as a writer’s writer, then I think it’s just as true to say he’s a reader’s writer; that is, he’s a writer who particularly rewards those for whom reading is an intense pleasure and something that is a bit of an addiction. I myself put James Salter among the very few North American writers all of whose work I want to read and whose as yet unpublished books I wait for impatiently.”
Salter returns to 92Y on Monday night (Apr 29) with Richard Ford.
Zoom Info

92y:

Sam Waterston, Charlotte Rampling and Robie Porter in James Salter's lost film, “Three” (1969).

Susan Sontag introduced James Salter at a 92Y reading in 1997 with “If he can be described as a writer’s writer, then I think it’s just as true to say he’s a reader’s writer; that is, he’s a writer who particularly rewards those for whom reading is an intense pleasure and something that is a bit of an addiction. I myself put James Salter among the very few North American writers all of whose work I want to read and whose as yet unpublished books I wait for impatiently.”

Salter returns to 92Y on Monday night (Apr 29) with Richard Ford.

What had happened? They had gone off and made love. That isn’t so rare. One must expect to encounter it. It’s nothing but a sweet accident, perhaps just the end of illusion. In a sense, one can say it’s harmless, but why, then, beneath everything does one feel apart? Isolated. Murderous, even.

A Sport and a Pastime, James Salter (via lovely—delight)