Life is tragic simply because the earth turns and the sun inexorably rises and sets, and one day, for each of us, the sun will go down for the last, last time. Perhaps the whole root of our trouble, the human trouble, is that we will sacrifice all the beauty of our lives, will imprison ourselves in totems, taboos, crosses, blood sacrifices, steeples, mosques, races, armies, flags, nations, in order to deny the fact of death, which is the only fact we have. It seems to me that one ought to rejoice in the fact of death—ought to decide, indeed, to earn one’s death by confronting with passion the conundrum of life. One is responsible to life: It is the small beacon in that terrifying darkness from which we come and to which we shall return. One must negotiate this passage as nobly as possible, for the sake of those who are coming after us.
James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time 
explore-blog:

E.B. White on what makes a great city – spectacular read

explore-blog:

E.B. White on what makes a great city – spectacular read

(via 99percentinvisible)

leonardodicrapio:

Jerry: Why do you like that word (debauched?)
Larry: I don’t know.

explore-blog:

Absolutely wonderful short film about artist Maira Kalman, patron saint of the moments inside the moments inside the moments.

explore-blog:

Absolutely wonderful short film about artist Maira Kalman, patron saint of the moments inside the moments inside the moments.

bushwickreview:

There is a reason why this story is one of the most anthologized ever, why it’s taught in tons of writing classes, why it has stunned friends of mine who don’t even like to read that much. It’s because it’s a masterpiece. From its opening line, it has some of the most perfect sentences. I can’t think of a work of art that better expresses what it’s like to be cowardly when faced with another’s death and to fail to be there when someone needs you. To avoid dealing with your emotions until it’s too late.
Apparently this was the first short story Amy Hempel wrote, which is even more incredible. She was taking Gordon Lish’s class and the story was a response to the first assignment. The assignment was to write your worst secret, the thing you would never live down. The thing that dismantled your own sense of yourself. 
You can read “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried” in The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel and online here. 
—-
May is national short story month. The Bushwick Review will feature a short story every day on this tumblr. It will be by a living writer.

bushwickreview:

There is a reason why this story is one of the most anthologized ever, why it’s taught in tons of writing classes, why it has stunned friends of mine who don’t even like to read that much. It’s because it’s a masterpiece. From its opening line, it has some of the most perfect sentences. I can’t think of a work of art that better expresses what it’s like to be cowardly when faced with another’s death and to fail to be there when someone needs you. To avoid dealing with your emotions until it’s too late.

Apparently this was the first short story Amy Hempel wrote, which is even more incredible. She was taking Gordon Lish’s class and the story was a response to the first assignment. The assignment was to write your worst secret, the thing you would never live down. The thing that dismantled your own sense of yourself. 

You can read “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried” in The Collected Stories of Amy Hempel and online here

—-

May is national short story month. The Bushwick Review will feature a short story every day on this tumblr. It will be by a living writer.

apoetreflects:

We live in two landscapes, as Augustine might have said,
One that’s eternal and divine,
                                              and one that’s just the back yard,

—Charles Wright, from “Indian Summer II,” in Appalachia (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1998)

badass-bharat-deafmuslim-artista:

I worry about this a lot.

badass-bharat-deafmuslim-artista:

I worry about this a lot.

(via angbeen)

asapscience:

Brings a tear to our eye. 

asapscience:

Brings a tear to our eye. 

(via angbeen)

"hallelujah for knowledge and for the honor of language and ideas and books."

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