The feeling of being alone in the woods.
I write out of a greed for lives and language. A need to listen to the orchestra...– Barry Hannah, from Why I Write
Franz Kafka, Letter to Oskar Pollak →
We are as forlorn as children lost in the woods. When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours? And if I were to cast myself down before you and tell you, what more would you know about me than you know about hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful? For that reason alone, we human beings ought to stand before...
Broseidon, King of the Brocean.– __________, age 15. Winner of Friday’s Mythology Class Weekly Portmanbreau Throwdown.
When a student who left his previous school due to paralyzing anxiety about writing finishes his first essay in your class (thanks to my patented no-stress backwards writing approach), and says, very surprised and flush with pride, “I think this is the best essay I’ve ever written.”
We do not argue with the star, the comet, the locomotive racing almost invisible...– John Hawkes, from Travesty
Overheard from inside the fort*: “That’s why I want to start a Bob Fosse club” *(also I am reading Us magazine (for my favorite column “Stars! They’re Just Like Us!”) in my bathing suit in the fort while eating cake because it’s my birthday and I can).