"Wearily, moving his feet because he had nothing else to do, Christopher went on down the road, hating the trees that moved slowly against his progress, hating the dust beneath his feet, hating the sky, hating this road, all roads, everywhere. He had been walking since morning, and all day the day before that, and the day before that, and days before that, back into the numberless line of walking days that dissolved, seemingly years ago, into the place he had left, once, before he started walking."
— The New Yorker has published another recently discovered Shirley Jackson short story “The Man in the Woods," a fairy tale that takes on some classic mythology. According to her son, it’s one of many new stories found in her archives, and we can expect a new collection next year. "What was surprising to us was not that she was so prolific and had left behind so much unseen work but, rather, the quality of that work," Laurence Jackson Hyman said. (via millionsmillions)
Always something sinister laying in wait between the lines of Shirley Jackson’s stories, keeps one on their toes.
"No one asked, at any point, if Mitt Romney might give up on his presidential ambitions because he wanted to spend more time with his litter of grandkids. Fuck, no one even asked in 2012 if Tagg Romney would do less on the campaign trail because he just got two new babies. No one asked because not only did no one care, but because everyone assumed that things would go on as normal because that’s what the fuck people do, men, women, grand or otherwise. The only reason anyone is talking about this is because Hillary Clinton has lady parts. And, no matter how you wanna sputter, “But…no,” it comes out sexist."
— Mitt Romney Became a Grandfather Eight Times While Running for President and No One Gave a Damn (via samuraifuckingfrog)
"Until you’re about the age of twenty, you read everything, and you like it simply because you are reading it. Then between twenty and thirty you pick what you want, and you read the best, you read all the great works. After that you sit and wait for them to be written. But you know, the least known, the least famous writers, they are the better ones."
— Rest in peace, Gabriel García Márquez. (via theatlantic)
I read Love in the Time of Cholera when I was 16, it meant so much to me then and still resonates 16 years later. Thank you Mr. Marquez, RIP.