The Book of Lost and Found

by Lucy Foley

I think it often happens like this. You wait, and hope, until eventually the hoping seems in vain and the thing you wish for begins to seem impossible. You try to forget, to move on. And sometimes, once you have gone through this painful process, by some peculiar alchemy, it happens.

The most important thing is to continue to do the thing you want to, to keep battling on. That, in my opinion, is the main part of the struggle. Most give up when it seems too difficult.”

This is what it is to be young: this is what people mean when they talk about the freedom and folly of youth, the reckless glamour of it. It is the purest sort of intoxication, this flying over rough ground so that the breath is knocked out of you, whizzing through the world with such power and grace and danger.

To truly create, to innovate, you cannot care about the sensibilities you may offend. You cannot mind that some people—your own mother, perhaps—will violently dislike your work. Do you understand?”

To be able to elicit a strong reaction of any sort is a powerful thing. God forbid that people should tolerate your work.”

the most precious memories can be damaged with too much handling, as with all delicate objects.

The stucco façade is a natural partner for the pewter of the sky, and to Tom it resembles a great plaster cast concealing possible deformities beneath.

When I see these men, I feel that I should be using my art to make a statement, to deliver a lesson on the wrongs of Capitalism as played out in this city. Instead I am drawn to tell a story. I want to show New York in all its wonder and evil, its color and darkness.

Because, if the nature of the work is right, there is great reward to be found. The feeling that one has a place in the world, that one is useful in some small way, is not to be underrated.