“When I say ‘I will be true to you’ I am drawing a quiet space beyond the reach of other desires. No-one can legislate love; it cannot be given orders or cajoled into service. Love belongs to itself, deaf to pleading and unmoved by violence. Love is not something you can negotiate. Love is the one thing stronger than desire and the only proper reason to resist temptation.”—Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body (via holdonmagnolia)
“The second main type of boredom, existential boredom, is more of a philosophical position than an emotional state. Its sufferers seem to find the condition of existence itself to be boring. This variety is known by many names: melancholy, depression, acedia (a form of Christian spiritual despair), world-weariness and Sartrean nausea, among others. Toohey is inclined to think that existential boredom did not exist before the Enlightenment. But that is hard to square with Ecclesiastes, whose author concluded long ago that “all is vanity and vexation of spirit.”—Book Review - Boredom - A Lively History - By Peter Toohey - NYTimes.com
“It’s that absence of feeling and it’s even the absence of hope that you can feel better. And it’s so difficult to describe to someone who’s never been there - because it’s not sadness. Sadness is - I know sadness - sadness is not a bad thing, you know, to cry and to feel. But it’s that cold absence of feeling, that really hollowed out feeling…”—
“At one point, he’s in college studying anthropology and you think his life is going to be about that, but next thing you know, he’s working full-time as a waiter,” observer Richard Siegal said. “Then out of the blue you find out that what he really wants to do is get into marketing, and suddenly he’s back in college again. It makes no sense.” “And there’s the big speech he gives his parents about how his life’s passion is for community organizing, but you never hear anything about that again,” Siegal added. “It’s like, why even introduce it in the first place?”—
“We think the [Girl Scouts’] national leadership has been infected with a radical feminist agenda.”—oh shit! I AM a radical[ish] feminist. & my lifetime membership to the Girl Scouts just came in the mail, yo.
“I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.”—
This is the fifth of Stevens’ famous “13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” and my favorite. Stevens knew how to break a line, didn’t he? Reminds me of sillage, the word for the scent a perfume leaves behind when the person wearing it has walked past.
“As a person who is known for his hot body, you must find it easy to judge the weight fluctuations of others, especially young women. If any of your daughters are ever faced with some kind of criticism of their physical appearance or weight, they should call me, because women’s body image is another issue I feel passionate about, and have become accustomed to dealing with and speaking with young women about on my college tours. So thanks for spreading the word, Glenn. And next time, instead of jumping straight to the “Meghan McCain fat jokes,” maybe try out some new material. Because the fat-joke thing, it’s been done so many times, I know a creative intellect such as yourself can do better than that. Love, Meghan”—Meghan McCain to Glenn Beck: Don’t Call Me Fat - The Daily Beast
Did you know, when you picked her out, that Samantha was the cool one? Or were you simply drawn to her glossy brown hair, sophisticated accessories (she had a fur muff!) and rich demographic? Either way, every girl wanted a Samantha. If you owned her, you quickly learned the value of cachet. By virtue of acquiring a status symbol early on (a Samantha doll was the designer jeans of third grade), you never quite had to worry about things the way other girls did. You therefore grew up to be confidant, capable, and nonplussed. You've always been well liked. You aren’t the funniest in your group, but you’ve never really noticed or cared. If you thought about it, you could probably recognize other women who had Samanthas. But that’s not that impressive:
“We had more in our lives than just men; we had our work, travel, friends, Then why did our lives seem to come down to a long succession of sad songs about men? Why did our lives seem to reduce themselves to manhunts? Where were the women who were really free, who didn’t spend their lives bouncing from man to man, who felt complete with or without a man? We looked to our uncertain heroines for help, and lo and behold — Simone de Beauvoir never makes a move without wondering what would Sartre think? And Lillian Hellman wants to be as much of a man as Dashiell Hammett so he’ll love her like he loves himself. And Doris Lessing’s Anna Wulf can’t come unless she’s in love, which is seldom. And the rest — the women writers, the women painters — most of them were shy, shrinking, schizoid. Timid in their lives and brave only in their art. Emily Dickinson, the Brontës, Virginia Woolf, Carson McCullers … Flannery O’Connor raising peacocks and living with her mother. Sylvia Plath sticking her head into an oven of myth. Georgia O’Keefe alone in the desert, apparently a survivor. What a group! Severe, suicidal, strange. Where was the female Chaucer? One lusty lady who had juice and joy and love and talent too? … Almost all the women we admired most were spinsters or suicides. Was that where it all led?”—Fear of Flying by Erica Jong (via lenachen)