A museumgoer when I have nothing better to do, I avoid writing much about collections, because a visitor should enter a museum innocent of what’s to come, be allowed to make discoveries, and not be nagged into seeing specific works.
Paul Theroux, On the Plain of Snakes
What she does convey—here and in all her novels—is that everything is problematic; and that the human condition consists of millions and millions of people being tossed up and down the earth, trying vainly to connect but being prevented from doing so.
Bruce Chatwin on Sybille Bedford in the introduction to her A Visit To Don Otavio
“Lord, beer me strength.”
“Lesson number one: All the time-traveling in the world can’t make someone love you.”
Meeting people – especially beloved people – at train stations is one of my most treasured things to do. It’s so immediate, with none of the airport’s current “security” silliness: seeing (and hearing and feeling) the train arrive, searching through the ensuing crowd for that face you want to see, and seeing the smile that makes the rest of the world disappear when your eyes meet. So many happy reunions, so many tearful goodbyes – train stations must be full of so much residual human emotion. Maybe that’s why they’re so magical.
Source: The Daddy Train — ellemef
This is Minnesota, land of hardy Northerners who love the winter despite complaining about it.
[. . .]
If you drive in winter, it can be hard to break out of this mindset. It can be hard to think about snow as anything but a major inconvenience. It can be hard to see past your windshield, to see what really matters. That’s why I made you a handy guide to stay Minnesota nice even when you’re driving in snow.
Check it out: How to be a nice driver in the winter – Biking in Mpls
On the last of those days he dropped me off at the Sunoco station on Memorial Drive where I had left my bike that morning. It was over. There were chrysanthemums planted along one edge of the parking lot and every time I drove past those flowers that fall I would sob and wail in my car.
I was crying in public, too. Crying as I wrote in my journal at Dunkin’ Donuts, crying as I put the heavy napkins and silverware on the tables at the fancy restaurant, crying as I biked home across the river at midnight. But I marveled, too. I marveled at the feeling of being heartbroken.
Source: An Empty Heart Is One That Can Be Filled – The New York Times
Thank you, Katie.