In honor of National Library Week, we’ve rounded up photos of some of the most stunning libraries across America, from the New York Public Library’s grandiose halls to the Seattle Central Library’s striking modern design. Check out our gallery, above. 5 Amazing Finds at the Digital Public Library of America 10 Beautiful Photos of Famous […]
“Music is only love looking for words.”
― Lawrence Durrell
I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.
Memories fade but words hang around forever.
—Daniel H. Wilson, Robopocalypse
"It’s a living book, this life;
It folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn’t matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were … and feel a kind of sickness at the idea you never again will be.
So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself slowly toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.
And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn’t it?”
―Through Painted Deserts: Light, God, and Beauty on the Open Road
We learn words by rote, but not their meaning; that must be paid for with our life-blood, and printed in the subtle fibres of our nerves.
—George Eliot, The Lifted Veil
And all the best words together couldn’t hold the happiness.
—Katherine Hannigan, Emmaline and the Bunny