In California

But there is another who is a little older
When I broke my bone
He carried me up from the riverside
To spend my life in spitting distance,
Of the love that I have known,
I must stay here in an endless eventide.

And if you come and see me
You will upset the order
You cannot come and see me,
For I set myself apart
But when you come and see me, in California
You cross the border of my heart.

The Shadow of the Wind

Bea says that the art of reading is slowly dying, that it's an intimate ritual, that a book is a mirror that offers us only what we already carry inside us, that when we read, we do it with all our heart and mind, and great readers are becoming more scarce by the day.

carlos ruiz zafon

Lionel Essrog

Lionel, my name. Frank and the Minna Men pronounced it to rhyme with vinyl. Lionel Essrog. Line-all.

Liable Guesscog.
Final Escrow.
Ironic Pissclam.
And so on.

My own name was the original verbal taffy, by now stretched to filament-thin threads that lay all over the floor of my echo-chamber skull. Slack, the flavor all chewed out of it.

Motherless Brooklyn

Like the G Train, the BQE suffered from low self esteem, never going and into citadel Manhattan, never tasting the glory.

jonathan lethem