66 Square Feet (Plus)

One woman, 12 seasons, and an appetite for plants

Friday, November 13, 2009

Happy hour

Posted by Marie at 7:56:00 AM

Labels: New York

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2 comments:

dinahmowNovember 13, 2009 at 2:33 PM
Those bricked-in windows look like a tapestry.
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Pam J.November 15, 2009 at 6:46 PM
I love these pictures.
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Michael Ondaatje, Divisadero

"Everyone is so happy on social media. It’s depressing."

Meg Ryan to Mamadi Doumbouya, The New York Times

...art arises from difficulty and talent. “Skill without imagination,” one of his characters says, “ is craftsmanship and gives us many useful objects such as wickerwork picnic baskets. Imagination without skill gives us modern art."

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Necessity knows no magic formulae - they are all left to chance. If a love is to be unforgettable, fortuities must immediately start fluttering down to it like birds to Francis of Assissi's shoulders.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I equate happiness with contentment, and contentment with complacency, and complacency with impending disaster.

Hugh Laurie to Gavin Edwards, The New York Times

Afterwards in the street, she looks around the neighborhood. "Yes, it is certified now."

She refers to a phenomenon of moviegoing which I have called certification. Nowadays when a person lives somewhere, in a neighborhood, the place is not certified for him. More than likely he will live there sadly and the emptiness which is inside him will expand until it evacuates the entire neighborhood. But if he sees a movie which shows his very neighborhood, it becomes possible for him to live, for a time at least, as a person who is Somewhere and not Anywhere."

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The garden paths were lit by coloured lamps, as is the custom in Italy, and the supper table was laden with candles and flowers, as is the custom in all countries where they understand how to dress a table, which when properly done is the rarest of all luxuries.

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One of the new things people began to find out in the last century was that thoughts - just mere thoughts - are as powerful as electric batteries, as good for one as sunlight is, or as bad for one as poison.

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George Eliot, Middlemarch

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MFK Fisher, The Art of Eating

I always think there is something foreign about high spirits at breakfast.

Carson, Downtown Abbey, Season 4

What he loved in horses was what he loved in men, the blood and the heat of the blood that ran with them. All his reverence and all his fondness and all the leanings of his life were for the ardenthearted and they would always be so and never be otherwise.

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Cormac McCarthy, in The Wall Street Journal: Hollywood's Favourite Cowboy

Ek is 'n man met blombehoeftes.

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"Die kierie kom uit Indonisie, gesny van 'n tak wat van jongs af omslinger was deur a wildevy se rank. Hulle het saam grootgeword, en die rank het sy spoor op die tak gelos. Daarom is die slinger ook oneweredig, en hier,"se hy, "by die punt van die kierie moes daar iets gebeur het - die slinger en die tak het inmekaar gevleg en 'n knoop gemaak. Die natuur het die kierie so gemaak."

"n Kieriemaker sou dit eweredig gedoen het," se ek.

"My kind," se meneer Boje, "vermy die reguit lyn."

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Susanna Clark, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

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Friday, November 13, 2009

Happy hour

2 comments: