Travis Pickar

“We don't know what's going on here. If these tremendous events are random combinations of matter run amok, the yield of millions of monkeys at millions of typewriters, then what is it in us, hammered out of those same typewriters, that they ignite? We don’t know. Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery, like the idle, curved tunnels of leaf miners on the face of a leaf. We must somehow take a wider view, look at the whole landscape, really see it, and describe what’s going on here. Then we can at least wail the right question into the swaddling band of darkness, or, if it comes to that, choir the proper praise.”
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

“«Es rarísimo que por un momento estemos aquí y al siguiente hayamos desaparecido. En un par de generaciones, a nadie le importará una mierda. No seremos más que unos gilipollas con ropas graciosas en fotografías descoloridas que un triste descendiente con demasiado tiempo libre saca del aparador para mirar de vez en cuando.”
― Irvine Welsh, Skagboys

“The door opened.
"We're here," said Mrs. Rogers.
Aunt Myra came in.
"Now!" said Amelia Bedelia.
"Greetings, greetings, greetings,"
said the three children.
"What's that about?" said Mrs. Rogers.
"You said to greet Aunt Myra with Carols," said Amelia Bedelia.
"Here's Carol Lee, Carol Green, and Carol Lake."
"What lovely Carols," said Aunt Myra.
"Thank you.”
― Peggy Parish, Merry Christmas, Amelia Bedelia

“There was something about speaking in a foreign language that made her feel like she'd been around a lot.”
― Carson McCullers, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter