two-for-luck

[two-for-luck]

That's all there is to the self, or the so-called "self": traces of people we rub against.

Ia Genberg, The Details

[two-for-luck]

Somewhere, deep within, unspoken, we know, we do know, that we'll all have our time adrift. For what else is a marriage, really, if not being stuck on a small raft with someone and trying to survive?

Sophie Elmhirst, A Marriage at Sea

[two-for-luck]

The dim coolness of my room was to the full sun of the street what a shadow is to a ray of light, that is to say, it was just as luminous and offered my imagination the full spectacle of summer, which my senses, had I been out walking, could have enjoyed only piecemeal; and so it was quite in harmony with my repose, which (because of the stirring adventures narrated in my books) sustained, like the repose of an unmoving hand in the midst of a stream of water, the shock and animation of a torrent of activity.

Marcel Proust, Swann's Way

[two-for-luck]

Much has been written on the subject of crying in Manhattan, as writers tend to cry in public, and writers tend to congregate in New York City, and anyway, you could make the argument that half if not all published writing is a form of crying in public.

Catherine Lacey, The Möbius Book

[two-for-luck]

He's a swimmin' dog

[two-for-luck]

Those who do the most growing in this life are those who offer the most compassion to the parts of themselves that have not yet grown.

Andrea Gibson

[two-for-luck]

You say that right now you don't want the eyes of the people who love you watching you. It is really difficult to bear the gaze of people who love you when you're having a hard time, but you can get over that. People who love you may be judgmental, but their vision is clear, merciful, and severe, and that can be rough, but it's just healthy to face clarity, severity, and mercy.

Natalia Ginzburg, Happiness, as Such

[two-for-luck]

Family in Netarts Bay

[two-for-luck]

I'm sending you hugs and wishing you happiness, if there is such a thing as happiness. A possibility that we can't entirely exclude, despite so rarely seeing evidence of it in this world that's been given to us.

Natalia Ginzburg, Happiness, as Such

[two-for-luck]

Louie in the good light

[two-for-luck]

So I wasn't there when he died, which I regret. But after a certain point in life a person has to dunk her regrets in the morning coffee, just like biscuits.

Natalia Ginzburg, Happiness, as Such

[two-for-luck]

The outcome of our work can be easy or difficult to predict. It’s not hard to determine if a bridge is going to fall down or if code is going to compile. The scientific method and statistics do a great job of helping us foresee some dynamic events. On the other hand, it’s almost impossible to know in advance if a song is going to be a hit, or if a new project is going to be profitable. We get to pick which sort of projects we take on. If you want to do artistic work, you’ll need to give up the certainty that comes with a reliable prediction. Part of the deal.

Seth Godin

[two-for-luck]

It is the same with our past. It is a waste of effort for us to try to summon it, all the exertions of our intelligence are useless. The past is hidden outside the realm of our intelligence and beyond its reach, in some material object (in the sensation that this material object would give us) which we do not suspect. It depends on chance whether we encounter this object before we die, or do not encounter it.

Marcel Proust, Swann's Way

[two-for-luck]

The staircase wall on which I saw the rising glimmer of his candle has long since ceased to exist. In me, too, many things have been destroyed that I thought were bound to last forever and new ones have formed that have given birth to new sorrows and joys which I could not have foreseen then, just as the old ones have become difficult for me to understand.

Marcel Proust, Swann's Way

[two-for-luck]

For only in recollection does an experience become fully significant, as we arrange it in a meaningful pattern, and thus the crucial role of our intellect, our imagination, in our perception of the world and our re-creation of it to suite our desires; thus the importance of the role of the artist in transforming reality according to a particular inner vision: the artist escapes the tyranny of time through art.

Lydia Davis

[two-for-luck]

That sea forever starting and re-starting. When thought has had its hour, oh how rewarding Are the long vistas of celestial calm!

Paul Valéry, "The Graveyard By the Sea"

[two-for-luck]

Summer. Dogs. Books.