[…] I don’t want to live in a small town in Kentucky. I know that life’s not for me. But I think about other regions, and cottage industries, and weird little cabins in the woods, and it’s like playing paper dolls. What would I look like with this set of rubber boots? That set of snow tires? What could I accomplish in the middle of nowhere? How would I be different in a different place? […]
Likely to be the same, except with different accessories. And slightly amended anxieties (snow tires, for example, need to be switched on—but how late to wait? And how early to make the appointment? Do I get them mounted on new rims to save the cost of switching altogether? etc.). But I also find this kind of thinking irresistible.
“The cure, or at least a salve, for this condition is transparency, accountability, humility. If The Times is going to publish more and faster, it will have to react faster to rectify more mistakes. The speed and volume of correction or response has to try to equal the speed and volume of error.”—The new public editor.
“Basically what it means is, I’m ripping off the movies that ripped off ‘Last Year at Marienbad,’” Mr. Nolan said. Both films explore the relationship between dreams and memory, and seemingly impossible physical settings are crucial to the spells they cast — though one detail distinguished the two, he said: “We have way more explosions.”—Christopher Nolan
“your mind is nowhere else but in this world that started off in the mind of another human being. There are two miracles at work here. One, that someone thought of that world and people in the first place. And the second, that there’s this means of transmitting it. Just little ink marks on squashed wood fiber. Bloody amazing.”—David Mitchell