"I’m someone who thinks with images, image is part of my narration as it is in graphic novels. In graphic novels, before you write, you draw,” Marjane Satrapi, the eminent cartoonist reflected before the screening of her latest film "Chicken with Plums."
WRR: Read anything good lately?
President Jefferson: A lively and lasting sense of filial duty is more effectually impressed on the mind of a son or daughter by reading King Lear, than by all the dry volumes of ethics, and divinity, that ever were written.
For this much is true: With the grief-stricken, I can almost communicate. It’s the complacent who miss every sign, ignore every signal. And the denizens of the newsroom sometimes seem the most complacent of all. They think reporting the news matters more than intervening in it. I understand them, for I used to think that way too. But I learned: There is no such thing as objectivity. You cannot witness something without being a part of it yourself.
Fire is Gioia’s consuming element and as flames run through the volume “like a bright thread through the spreading ashes/ fire in flakes from the trellised vines and branches” (“Las Animas”) my wish for him is readers who will catch these sparks and carry them to their own hearths.
In addition to our travels, Angie and I spent years researching every aspect of Turkey we could think of...We needed to become experts so that each line of our story rings true. Our dream was to write a book that takes our readers on a romantic journey, not a book that fills one's head with so much history you don't really remember any of it.
When Hudlin was a young girl...she asked her parents to send her to a different school, they told her, “This is your journey to be introduced to each individual human being - so you don’t recreate the stereotypes of every race.”
For Lynn, science or perhaps inquiry was her instrument and she played it with the unrestrained passion of a virtuoso and the ability to care little about what people thought of her as she did exactly what she loved with her life. Like an animated Dickinson poem, she was neither tentative nor self-conscious. She would daringly move toward a vanishing point of an accepted convention, thus causing it to be redefined. Gould was like that as well. They were each more verb than noun.
My five-year anniversary of professional musicianship passed in August, and I was too busy making a record, touring, and driving back and forth to New Orleans to notice until now. I guess that’s as it should be.
With the massive popularity of series like Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings, it's clear that as wondrous and strange as the world of fantasy is, we have no problems imagining ourselves in it... But Dr. Nicholas Perkins, curator of the Bodleian Library’s exhibition “The Romance of the Middle Ages,” knows that these stories are not just fantasy—they tell us something essential about ourselves.
“You have to watch the world with this intensity, with this love, and with this ecstatic passion,” Herzog told a rapt audience, “The world deserves it, and the passion will transform into movies.”
What veteran traveler hasn’t felt a tingle – whether of elation, anxiety, or expectancy – from strolling down a crowded street with the knowledge that, at that moment, there was not another soul on earth who knew one’s exact whereabouts?
Two American women, Angie Brenner and Joy Stocke, in an act of what Dulce Murphy of Esalen Institute termed “citizen diplomacy,” have decided to take it on themselves to throw a different light on Turkish humanity to dispel these dark misperceptions of the people themselves.
It is a shocking subject, unbelievable to comprehend - one of the shadow sides of a culture. Yet, it is a reality for some uneducated, tribal families. When first reading about the KAMER organization, I knew we had to go there and talk to these women. You cannot imagine how strong these women are, how they have devoted their lives to create change.
My mother is dying. There are shuffling noises overhead coming from her bedroom. She has cancer, and her death is imminent. I am her only child. We never liked each other.
The author of three critically acclaimed collections of poetry (The Body’s Question, 2003; Duende, 2007; and Life on Mars, 2011), Tracy K. Smith’s experience as Hans Magnus Enzensberger’s protégé has compelled her to re-imagine her designation as “poet” in order to become a writer in a wider sense of the term.
But everything changes, as was so clearly demonstrated on the last Saturday morning in April on one of New York City's great urban renewal projects, the High Line, a former rail line that once bisected the Meat Packing District and "lifted freight 30 feet in the air."
On the day before the U.S. Military found al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden in a suburb outside of Islamabad Pakistan, I sat in a sun-flooded room at the Asia Society in New York City and listened to three Pakistani poets read openly about house raids, chadors, “beautiful books,” “intricate wombs,” religion, prison, and love. As the rhythms and tones of multiple languages filled the air, I could not have imagined that in less than twenty-four hours...