“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.”-Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Tag Archives: Quotes
Daily Diversion #22: How Long Can I Resist?
I’m not an early riser, but I like the idea of taking a morning constitutional. Not a plain old walk, mind you: a constitutional. Yes, yes…I know it means the same thing. The latter, however, sounds vigorous and lovely and a bit old-fashioned. As if it takes work, thought, planning. A clear head. For the last few weeks, I’ve been threatening to get up early (for me) and drag my husband to the cemetery down the street. A four-minute drive for an hour’s hike. After sunrise, but before the work day has dawned. It is such a tempting idea, in my head. On paper. The reality will likely find me achy and whiny and yawning for the first half an hour. Yet, yet… the destination is the above scene: vibrant, bright, wild. Serene. All in the shadow of the city. How long can I resist?
Quote
“The reason that fiction is more interesting than any other form of literature, to those who really like to study people, is that in fiction the author can really tell the truth without humiliating himself.”-Eleanor Roosevelt
Quote
“When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.”-O. Henry
Daily Diversion #20: Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad*/My Neighborhood is Weirder Than Yours
This pig has been keeping watch outside the main entrance of our building since Friday. This is totally normal, right? Right?
I recently wrote about one of my main concerns as a writer, which is feeling at home in my surroundings. I’ve struggled with this since moving to the Queen City six years ago. I love our flat, and our building; if the whole thing could be picked up and moved somewhere else, my contentment would shine forth like a lighthouse beacon. I know that I am guilty of focusing on what I wish I could change about our neighborhood, even as I am faced with all that there is to enjoy in this weird little corner of town. Mr. Enormous Pig has reminded me of some of the perks of living in the CW. They are:
- Sharing a building with an unusual museum (thus, Mr. EP).
- The best (and wackiest) mural of George Washington you will ever see.
- The ability to get chili at 3:00 in the morning, and the simultaneous people watching opportunity.
- A giant gorilla hanging off the side of a costume shop building.
- People watching. Oh, the people watching.
- The beautiful park across the street (visible from all of our windows), especially the dough boy statue that was dedicated just post-war.
- The handsome architecture of this neighborhood is truly impressive, even if many of the buildings are derelict or down-right abandoned.
- The city salt barn directly across the street. Not only is it an easy landmark for guests, it is absurdly fun to watch news crews swarm the premises at the slightest indication of snow. Also, it looks like a voluptuous breast. At least a C-cup.
- I love being surrounded by manufacturing businesses and a sea of trees. This area is not very residential, but is intensely lush.
- The minimum-security jail behind the park (also constantly on view from our windows). It sits on the site of an old workhouse, razed many decades ago. Only the stunning stone wall remains. A jail in the neighborhood means that the streets are very well patrolled. Even though some people think the CW is sketchy, it actually means that we have the lowest crime rate in the city.
- Diversity, diversity, diversity.
Looking out our wall of windows, nine stretching full-height in a salute to the ceiling, I see colour and character; zest and life; dirt and beauty. It’s always interesting. A writer could do worse than to have so much at hand.
*This is a quote from George Orwell’s Animal Farm.
Daily Diversion #18: Dreams and (Dis)connections
“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.”-Sylvia Plath
The direct nature of old architecture appeals to me: a glance transports you to another time, and a different way of life. Your imagination is free to conjure a dozen or a hundred scenarios or conversations, sometimes in mere seconds. I walk past these handsome buildings three days a week. They reside on one of the ugliest streets in the city proper. Hemmed in by nondescript banks, a mall where no one shops, and a hideous parking garage that mercilessly casts its blight to the East and West, they are easy to miss. I’ve seen them again and again, out of the corner of a careless eye. Distracted. Too busy. Focused on a destination or a passing thought. On Monday, I finally took the time to see them. It was only for a minute or two, while standing under a canopy as my best friend withdrew money from an ATM. The weird angle is a reflection of my short stature, deep concentration, and unwillingness to find a better shot. Sense of place and ambiance are acutely important to me. The necessity of feeling a connection to my surroundings is one of the odder factors in my struggle to become a better writer. It’s one of the things I have the toughest time handling, this lack of rootedness to where I live. I’m glad that I finally took the time to become better acquainted with this trio. The slideshow image is the result, a visual memory of an important moment in my deepening relationship with this city.
Quote
“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.”-Oscar Wilde
Daily Diversion #17: Tongues in Trees*
I’m a city girl but I like my urban living with a side of greenery, please. I like to call it tree tourism. We visited this handsome fella and several of his friends last week. You cannot tell from this photograph that the countryside is miles away. Hop in the car and three minutes later you are in the shadow of a different kind of titan, all concrete and steel and cold comeliness.
*”And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.”-William Shakespeare
Daily Diversion #16: Summer Transiency*
The views from the graveyard go on forever; they cross steep hills, tumble into valleys, and cross a breathtaking expanse of sky, all the while skipping across centuries. A sense of peace echoes about the place, and follows you wherever you look. Close your eyes, and it is still there. Tumult is absent. It is okay to step softly across the sod, and smile.
*”He loved, beneath all this summer transiency, to feel the earth’s spine beneath him.”-Virginia Woolf, Orlando
Quote
“Stability in language is synonymous with rigor mortis.”-Ernest Weekley







