
An ongoing digital archive of 1,399 items (and counting) proving that I read, I saw, and I actually paid attention.

“Claims to ordinariness and salt-of-the-earth virtue—‘slumming it,’ as it’s crudely called—are themselves pretentious. The assumption that dropping your aitches or asserting a love of a cheap beer over a fine wine, or processed cheese over a Parmesan, will make you seem unspoiled or somehow more gritty is classic downwardly mobile play-acting.”
“Well, imagine if we only ever did what we were supposed to,”

“If you do a good play and it gets bad reviews and nobody comes it’s off in a week or two and that’s the end of it, it’s gone forever. If you do a film that’s not well received to start with, it turns out it can have a life after death.”
“Wow! This place sure is crawlin’ with celebrities. I’m the only person here I never heard of.”
“The act of salvation is never performed, because anyone with the strength to carry it out is unaware that they must do it, and the knowing person is incapable of action.”

“I would love to have had one more conversation with your father before he passed away, because I also would like to apologize to him because I’m sure I was also part of his suffering.” “Well, you’re 89, so you’ll get to tell him soon.”
“With a capital T, and that gotsta rhyme with a P, and that stands for pool!”

“Sometimes it is the evidence, the spectacle of another person’s grief that harrows you, more than the loss itself.”
“I would like to be a spoiled rich white girl. They get what they want, whenever they want it. They don’t have to really struggle with finances, nice things, nice clothes, and they don’t have to have that as a problem.”
“For Blue there are no boundaries or solutions.”

“Is it any wonder that so many of us, after a busy week of work, opt for a change of scene, as often as we can, rather than stay put and build the kind of community that we find so appealing elsewhere? The 17th-century French thinker Blaise Pascal suggested that this was down to humankind’s ‘secret instinct which impels them to seek amusement and occupation abroad.’ Alongside this urge, Pascal wrote, stood a contradictory pillar of self-knowledge: ‘That happiness in reality consists only of rest, and not in stir.’ In the case of the village mentality the contradiction is evident: We want the deep peace of belonging, but our itchy feet undermine our ability to put in the hours.”

“When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone.”