She Did Not Care For Childrens Books In Which The Children Grew Up, As What Growing Up Entailed (in Life

“She did not care for children’s books in which the children grew up, as what “growing up” entailed (in life as in books) was a swift and inexplicable dwindling of character; out of a clear blue sky the heroes and heroines abandoned their adventures for some dull sweetheart, got married and had families, and generally started acting like a bunch of cows.”

— Donna Tartt, The Little Friend

A river no more begins at its source than a story begins with the first page.

Once Upon a River; Diane Setterfield

Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again

HOMER, THE ILIAD.

“Reader, do you remember that ridiculous movie Volcano, the one with Tommy Lee Jones? Do you remember how they stopped eruption in the middle of downtown Los Angeles? They diverted it with cement roadblocks and pointed fire hoses at it, and rerouted the lava to the ocean, and everything was fine? Sweet reader, that is not how lava works. Anyone can tell you that. Here is the truth: I keep waiting for my anger to go dormant, but it won’t. I keep waiting for someone to reroute my anger into the ocean, but no one can. My heart is closer to Dante’s Peak of Dante’s Peak. My anger dissolves grandmas in acid lakes and razes quaint Pacific Northwest towns with ash and asphyxiates jet engines with its grit. Lava keeps leaking down my slopes. You should have listened to the scientist. You should have evacuated earlier.”

— Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House

“I wake up in a rage. I am thoroughly dissatisfied with this world. (…) I should like to do something once and for all to burst this straining tendon which sustains my heart. (…) If I try to speak, all that comes out is a mournful growl. So it is not only rage? No, there is sadness as well.”

— Clarice Lispector, “Dies Irae,” from her Selected Cronicas, tr. Giovanni Pontiero

“Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief. Ask a headhunter why he cuts off human heads. He’ll say that rage impels him and rage is born of grief. The act of severing and tossing away the victim’s head enables him to throw away the anger of all his bereavements. Perhaps you think this does not apply to you. Yet you recall the day your wife, driving you to your mother’s funeral, turned left instead of right at the intersection and you had to scream at her so loud other drivers turned to look. When you tore off her head and threw it out the window they nodded, changed gears, drove away. Grief and rage—you need to contain that, to put a frame around it, where it can play itself out without you or your kin having to die. There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you?”

— Anne Carson, “Tragedy: A Curious Art Form,” from the preface of Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

When I'm dead, I'm going to forget everything - and I advise you to do the same.

Cat's Cradle; Kurt Vonnegut

There were a great many inns along the upper reaches of the Thames at the time of this story and you could get drunk in all of them, but beyond the usual ale and cider, each one had some particular pleasure to offer.

Once Upon a River - Diane Setterfield