tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24732998986946403762024-03-13T10:25:12.725-07:00words like waterChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-7693549526797640372012-01-16T07:09:00.000-08:002012-01-16T07:33:02.765-08:00#57(I know this is quite long, but 44 years later, still completely relevant. I couldn't stop reading)There can be no gain saying of the fact that our nation has brought the world to an awe inspiring threshold of the future. We've built machines that think and instruments that peer into the unfathomable ranges of interstellar space. We have built gargantuan bridges to span the seas and gigantic Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-22002808650510670062012-01-01T19:39:00.000-08:002012-01-01T19:40:29.824-08:00#56Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-42154848823069408162011-12-27T15:27:00.000-08:002011-12-27T15:28:29.521-08:00#55It was as if God had decided to put to the test every capacity for surprise and was keeping the inhabitants of Macondo in a permanent alternation between excitement and disappointment, doubt and revelation, to such an extreme that no one knew for certain where the limits of reality lay.100 Years of SolitudeChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-72089989394598620272011-12-23T13:31:00.000-08:002012-01-16T07:24:48.171-08:00#54Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-57620628201131794262011-10-24T07:55:00.000-07:002012-01-16T07:23:37.261-08:00#53This is my attempt to make sense of the period that followed, weeks and then months that cut loose any fixed idea I had ever had about death, about illness, about probability and luck, about good fortune and bad, about marriage and children and memory, about grief, about the ways in which people do and do not deal with the fact that life ends, about the shallowness of sanity, about life Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-4453470975810072692011-10-16T08:40:00.000-07:002011-10-16T08:41:06.132-07:00More WordsChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-23254427580649682352011-10-16T08:05:00.001-07:002011-10-16T08:05:35.710-07:00My WordsChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-82510555548791604702011-09-13T10:02:00.000-07:002011-09-13T10:04:00.978-07:00#52Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-82449703760397935012011-08-23T08:04:00.000-07:002011-08-23T08:10:14.603-07:00#51About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star.
The mockingbird took a single step into the air and dropped. His wings were still folded against his sides as though he were singing from a limb and not falling, accelerating thirty-two Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-1326312094504527952011-08-02T15:03:00.000-07:002011-08-02T15:09:46.085-07:00#50Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back as some creeks will. The creeks are the world with all its stimulus and beauty; I live there. But the mountains are home.Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker CreekChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-40519181628362534162011-06-19T05:03:00.000-07:002011-06-19T05:14:39.096-07:00#49From Sherman Alexie's article written recently on why it's okay for YA Lit to be brutally honest. He is the author of the YA Novel The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, based on his childhood growing up on a reservation."When I think of the poverty-stricken, sexually and physically abused, self-loathing Native American teenager that I was, I can only wish, immodestly, that I’d been Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-82955951066399975922011-06-18T08:22:00.000-07:002011-06-19T05:15:34.630-07:00#48“Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.” Alan KeightleyChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-13403245831998436722011-06-17T10:24:00.000-07:002011-06-19T05:19:14.596-07:00#47There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been: a people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful, and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and skip death. It is a weakening and discoloring idea, Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-43889591332353967562011-06-15T08:22:00.001-07:002011-06-19T07:30:11.601-07:00#46Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-51203495472502342782011-06-10T12:38:00.000-07:002011-06-19T05:18:52.570-07:00#45I knew that no one comes holier than anyone else, that nowhere is better than anywhere else. I knew that the resurrection of the mind was possible. I knew that no matter how absurd and ironic it was, acknowledging death and the finite was what gave you life and presence. You might as well make it good. Nature, family, children, cadavers, birth, rivers in which we pee and bathe, splash and flirt Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-88975441485439674602011-06-09T05:01:00.000-07:002011-06-09T05:05:41.373-07:00#44There is now, living in New York City, a church-sanctioned hermit, Theresa Mancuso, who wrote recently, "The thing we desperately need is to face the way it is."Annie Dillard, For the Time BeingChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-90556275454227573712011-06-08T18:29:00.000-07:002011-06-09T05:06:05.151-07:00#43I finally figured out that I had a choice: I could suffer a great deal, or not, or for a long time. Or I could have the combo platter: suffer, breathe, pray, play, cry, and try to help people. There was a meaning in pain; it taught you how to survive with a modicum of grace when you did not get what you wanted.Anne Lamott, Grace (Eventually)Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-21121771859017478352011-06-04T09:00:00.000-07:002011-06-09T05:06:22.226-07:00#42A long time ago I read Jack Kerouac's essential for prose. Four of them, in particular, have provided me with heart for the path:Accept loss foreverBe submissive to everything, open, listeningNo fear or shame in the dignity of your experience, language, and knowledgeBe in love with your lifeBelieve me, you, too, can find yourself inside the huge terrain of writing. No one is so odd as to be left Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-62918078211957468512011-06-03T12:26:00.000-07:002011-06-03T12:27:53.495-07:00#41Make a line, write a sentence. See what happens.-George CraneChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-30303066493618602732011-05-25T22:50:00.000-07:002011-06-09T05:06:45.969-07:00#40"Honeybees depend not only on physical contact with the colony, but also require it's social companionship and support. Isolate a honeybee from her sisters and she will soon die."- Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of BeesChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-91319694262511187012011-05-24T23:26:00.001-07:002011-05-24T23:26:49.451-07:00#39Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-42569634412956178902011-05-24T13:44:00.000-07:002011-05-24T13:49:45.939-07:00#38The legend of the traveler appears in every civilization, perpetually assuming new forms, afflictions, powers, and symbols. Through every age he walks in utter solitude toward penance and redemption. -Evan S. Connell Jr. Notes form a BottleChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-75140910581756141482011-05-17T06:47:00.000-07:002011-05-25T22:57:14.198-07:00#37"I maintain control of my soul 'cause i know it gets greater later"Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-81755101418885177082011-05-12T03:19:00.000-07:002011-05-19T11:14:44.561-07:00#36They tell me that, I'm not qualified,To lend my voice, to something so beautiful.We only get to live one time, but twice did my life stand in some sunshine.I could lose eyesight, I could end up blind.But I drew my design inside the bloodline.Years go by, memories combine.But y'all the only reason I would even rewind.Thank you for the branch you grew on this tree.Your first breath wasn't easy to Chloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2473299898694640376.post-80742627364752300132011-04-20T11:28:00.001-07:002011-05-19T11:14:27.219-07:00#35"We show up, burn brightly, live passionately, hold nothing back, and when the moment is over, when our work is done, we step back and let go." - Rolf GatesChloe Zolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08501610826788921564noreply@blogger.com0