Think for another second about what it was like to catch a taxi five years ago.
“What if I start making art again? What if I just did that? That is the thing I love, that is the thing I miss most. For so long I have believed I could never catch up, but now I realize there’s nothing to catch up to, there’s only what I choose to make.” p 176
People are her third favorite species, she says. First cats. Then dogs. Or, no, wait–fourth favorite species. The Central Park horses are number three.
It was really amazing the way life kept grinding forward, demanding things of him. He had to get up and go to work and earn a living and cook dinner and be a parent, all on days when he didn’t know if he could manage to brush his teeth. P 164
My daughter and I pay attention. We know what the world wants from us. We know we must decide whether to stay small, quiet and uncomplicated or allow ourselves to grow as big, loud, and complex as we were made to be. P 11
It was either dirty or clean, and I welcomed those binaries, the way they shored up a day.
To Sal, a place doesn’t feel like home unless it contains a card table with a half-done jigsaw puzzle on it. p 41
Son of a bitch, he muttered.
But don’t you realize how incredibly lucky you are, she said, to be alive, at this moment? p 310
Things impossible to photograph while on vacation in the Caribbean.