Tom Orr

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Watchmen
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The Sea Shore
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Book cover for On the Road Bike: The Search For a Nation’s Cycling Soul
The more I speak to British riders, whether they are from the online here and now, or from the black-and-white yesteryear, the more I detect a commonality. They tend to brood. Accustomed to passing endless hours trapped in their interior ...more
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Italo Calvino
“And Polo said: “The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.”
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

William Wordsworth
“And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what age takes away
Than what it leaves behind.”
William Wordsworth, Selected Poetry

Italo Calvino
“And Polo said: “The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of the inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.” Read Boldly.”
Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Ray Bradbury
“The rain continued. It was a hard rain, a perpetual rain, a sweating and steaming rain; it was a mizzle, a downpour, a fountain, a whipping at the eyes, an undertow at the ankles; it was a rain to drown all rains and the memory of rains. It came by the pound and the ton, it hacked at the jungle and cut the trees like scissors and shaved the grass and tunnelled the soil and moulted the bushes. It shrank men’s hands into the hands of wrinkled apes; it rained a solid glassy rain, and it never stopped.”
Ray Bradbury, The Illustrated Man

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