"To put it in a nutshell, leaving the novelist to smooth out the crumpled silk and all its implications, he was a nobleman afflicted with a love of literature. Many people of his time, still more of his rank, escaped the infection and were thus free to run or ride or make love at their own sweet will… It was the fatal nature of this disease to substitute a phantom for reality, so that Orlando, to whom fortune had given every gift - plate, linen, houses, menservants, carpets, beds in profusion - had only to open a book for the whole vast accumulation to turn to mist… Once the disease of reading has laid hold upon the system it weakens it so that it falls an easy prey to that other scourge that lays in the inkpot and festers in the quill. The wretch takes to writing."
"Handwritten letters, a word written in a certain hand like a voice that soothes simply by its familiarity…"
fonts just don’t do the trick.
…packing, going through stuff, found a legal pad sheet from when i lived in Boston, probably 2004, sort of a “these are a few of my favorite things” 2 page list. i think it’s from the day i locked myself out of the house without my wallet while it was raining, and only had $5. went to Diesel cafe, got the only coffee i could afford, and spent the afternoon writing…
“She didn’t miss her father any less as the weather warmed, but by then her body had absorbed the habit of sadness, so that sadness flowed all through her and became a natural part of her movements.”—Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell (Norton)
“Quentin had grown up with that; the mere names were interchangeable and almost myriad. His childhood was full of them; his very body was an empty hall echoing with sonorous defeated names; he was not a being, an entity, he was a commonwealth. He was a barracks filled with stubborn back-looking ghosts still recovering…”—
by William Faulkner
wow, it took a whole 6 pages for the word MYRIAD to show up!