Steve > Steve's Quotes

“No wires tender even as nerves
can transmit the impact of
our seasons, our catastrophes
while we are closed inside them”
― Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country

“If he had known unstructured
space is a deluge
and stocked his log house-
boat with all the animals

even the wolves,

he might have floated.

But obstinate he
stated, The land is solid
and stamped,

watching his foot sink
down through the stone
up to his knee.

From "Progressive insanities of a pioneer”
― Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country

“you are as innocent as a bathtub
full of bulleta”
― Margaret Atwood

“Managing two families wasn't easy, but bin Laden wasn't discouraged. He developed a theory of multiple marriages. 'One is okay, like walking. Two is like riding a bicycle: it's fast but a little unstable. Three is a tricycle, stable but slow. And when we come to four, ah! This is the ideal. Now you can pass everyone”
― Lawrence Wilkes

“It is the job of the human brain to assemble all the input of our world—sights, sounds, smells—into a coherent narrative. This is what memory is, a carefully calibrated story that we make up about our past. But what happens when those details crumble?”
― Noah Hawley, Before the Fall

“It’s like living near a bakery but never eating any bread. Every day you walk the streets, the smell of it in your nose, your stomach growling, but no matter how many corners you turn, you can never enter the actual store. The”
― Noah Hawley, Before the Fall

“Because what if instead of a story told in consecutive order, life is a cacophony of moments we never leave? What if the most traumatic or the most beautiful experiences we have trap us in a kind of feedback loop, where at least some part of our minds remains obsessed, even as our bodies move on? A”
― Noah Hawley, Before the Fall

“She was startled by how rarely she had been alone back then. Her days felt like being handed from person to person like a baton, her calculus teacher passing her to her Spanish teacher to her chemistry teacher to her friends and back home to her parents. Then one day, her mother’s hand was gone and she’d fallen, clattering to the floor. She”
― Brit Bennett, The Mothers

“He’s not coming, baby,” the nurse said. “Do you have someone else to call?” Nadia glanced up, startled by the nurse’s confidence that Luke would not show, but even more jolted by her use of the word baby. A cotton-soft baby that seemed to surprise the nurse herself, like it had tripped off her tongue. Just like how after the surgery, in her delirium, Nadia had looked into the nurse’s blurred face and said “Mommy?” with such sweetness, the nurse had almost answered yes.”
― Brit Bennett, The Mothers

“Oh girl, we have known littlebit love. That littlebit of honey left in an empty jar that traps the sweetness in your mouth long enough to mask your hunger. We have run tongues over teeth to savor that last littlebit as long as we could, and in all our living, nothing has starved us more. —”
― Brit Bennett, The Mothers

“Poorness never left you, she told him. It was a hunger that embedded itself into your bones. It starved you, even when you were full. “I’m”
― Brit Bennett, The Mothers

“She should’ve felt glad, but she didn’t. She wished her mother had at least thought about it. A fleeting thought when she’d left the doctor and envisioned her own mother’s face. During a hushed phone call with the man she loved. When she’d called a clinic to make her appointment and hung up in tears, when she’d sat in the waiting room, holding her own hand. She could’ve been seconds away from doing it—it didn’t matter. She hated the thought of her mother not wanting her but it would’ve been better to look at her mother’s face in the mirror and know that they were alike. —”
― Brit Bennett, The Mothers

“...Want to know
why my roses grow dead on
a living vine? Prayer against civil war. Let
us hate with a single heart. Don't
drink the runoff. I always wanted a ruin
so I bought a run-'er-down. Love
contaminates”
― Robin Schiff

“There is no history of mankind, there is only an indefinite number of histories of all kinds of aspects of human life. And one of these is the history of political power. This is elevated into the history of the world. But this, I hold, is an offence against every decent conception of mankind. It is hardly better than to treat the history of embezzlement or of robbery or of poisoning as the history of mankind. For the history of power politics is nothing but the history of international crime and mass murder.”
― Karl Popper

“One spring patio is for rodeos
niggled with iodine figures, weaved
tapestries inside vast Tuileries.
But that reminds me, how exactly
do words form brittle histories”
― Adam Fitzgerald, The Late Parade: Poems