open up...
"During the years when I was an undergraduate at Berkeley I tried with a kind of hopeless late-adolescent energy, to buy some temporary visa into the world of ideas, to forge for myself a mind that could deal with the abstract. In short I tried to think...During those years I was traveling on what I knew to be a very shaky passport, forged papers: I knew I was no legitimate resident in any world of ideas. I knew I couldn't think. All I knew then was what I couldn't do. All I knew then was what I wasn't, and it took me some years to discover what I was."
It's one of the things I love about books - the random revelations that they contain, the comforting surprise that may or may not wait on the first page, the feeling of intimacy, as if those words were waiting just for you, talking just to you, and the comfort of knowing that they're not - that there are other people, the author herself, who feel as you do. And it's Joan Didion too! Damn...
It's one of the things I love about books - the random revelations that they contain, the comforting surprise that may or may not wait on the first page, the feeling of intimacy, as if those words were waiting just for you, talking just to you, and the comfort of knowing that they're not - that there are other people, the author herself, who feel as you do. And it's Joan Didion too! Damn...