Sage Nitchals

“The American Society of Civil Engineers said in 2007 that the U.S. had fallen so far behind in maintaining its public infrastructure -- roads, bridges, schools, dams -- that it would take more than a trillion and half dollars over five years to bring it back up to standard. Instead, these types of expenditures are being cut back. At the same time, public infrastructure around the world is facing unprecedented stress, with hurricanes, cyclones, floods and forest fires all increasing in frequency and intensity. It's easy to imagine a future in which growing numbers of cities have their frail and long-neglected infrastructures knocked out by disasters and then are left to rot, their core services never repaired or rehabilitated. The well-off, meanwhile, will withdraw into gated communities, their needs met by privatized providers. ”
― Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism

“- Добре, чадо мое – отвърна той. – Не мога да отблъсна една заблудена овца.

Помъчих се да му посоча, че съм мъж и като такъв съм по-сходен с коч, а не с овца, обаче дръжки!”
― Boris Vian, Conte de fées à l'usage des moyennes personnes

“It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they executed the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm stupid about executions. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers -- goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me at every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being burned alive all along your nerves.

I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.

New York was bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-gray at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“What I loved were books that heightened the sense of life’s wonders without denying the complexity and horror that sometimes accompanied those wonders.”
― Dorothy Allison, Bastard Out of Carolina