Home Feed
Home
Search
Search
Add Review, Blurb, Quote
Add
Activity
Activity
Profile
Profile
Hemingweight

Hemingweight

Joined May 2016

quote
Hemingweight
White Album | Joan Didion
post image

We tell ourselves stories in order to live.

quote
Hemingweight
post image

When I asked my father to explain what the words meant - absorbed by the headlines and weighed down by all my anxious thoughts, I was more and more asking what everything meant - he frowned and said, "It means turning our back on our friends. It means making friends with the enemies. You know what it means, son? It means destroying everything that America stands for."

quote
Hemingweight
post image

I eagerly observed its national holidays, and without giving a second thought to my affinity for the Fourth of July fireworks or the Thanksgiving turkey or the Decoration Day double-header. Our homeland was America.

Then the Republicans nominated Lindbergh and everything changed.

quote
Hemingweight
post image

Reality spilled out into the alley like water from an overfilled bowl - as sound, as smell, as image, as plea, as response.

MayJasper My copy has the same cover 8y
1 comment
quote
Hemingweight
post image

Kumiko and I felt something for each other from the start. It was not one of those strong, impulsive feelings that can hit two people like an electric shock when they first meet, but something quieter and gentler, like two tiny lights traveling in tandem through a vast darkness and drawing imperceptibly closer to each other as they go.

quote
Hemingweight
Underground Airlines | Ben H. Winters
post image

Books on the nightstand

quote
Hemingweight
Persepolis | Marjane Satrapi
post image

The key to paradise was for poor people. Thousands of young kids, promised a better life, exploded on the minefields with their keys around their necks.

1 like1 stack add
quote
Hemingweight
All That Man Is | David Szalay
post image

There is a strange sense of loss, a sense of loss without an obvious object.

quote
Hemingweight
The Crying of Lot 49 | Thomas Pynchon
post image

As if their home cemetery in some way still did exist, in a land where you could somehow walk, and not need the East San Narciso Freeway, and bones still could rest in peace, nourishing ghosts of dandelions, no one to plough them up. As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.