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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The cure for loneliness is solitude. —Marianne Moore, from the essay “If I Were Sixteen Today”
The traces of Hannah on me are indelible.
Percolating remembrances, red wine, an old woman’s shampoo: mix well and wind up with blue hair.
memoirs of Americans in general. It’s the “I live in the richest country in the world yet pity me because I grew up with flat feet and a malodorous vagina but I triumph in the end” syndrome.
Let the masses cover themselves in gold, frankincense, and Chanel to honor their savior’s birth.
I am in good health, and women in my family live long. My mother is still going insane.
forced learning and magic are congenital adversaries.
the schools of Beirut, whose main curriculum has always been community conformity.
the definition of parallel lines in geometry textbooks in Saudi Arabia is two straight lines that never meet unless God in all His glory wills it.
when I think of him my memory’s eyes have cataracts.
His sole remarkable trait was his unremitting passing of gas, which he had no inclination to control.
a night drunk with cicadas,
I am my family’s appendix, its unnecessary appendage.
Nothing in our marriage became him like leaving it.
