I was just born with an excess of story, the way another poor child might have come into this world with extra fingers on each hand. My imagination had more figment in it than my life could contain, so some of it leaked out here and there.
—Barbara Kingsolver, “The Not-so-Deadly Sin”
An “excess of story.” Blessing or curse?
Another one from the next essay in the book High Tide in Tucson, “Reprise,” has this gem: “Be still, and the world is bound to turn herself inside out to entertain you. Everywhere you look, joyful noise is clanging to drown out quiet desperation. The choice is draw the blinds and shut it all out, or believe.”
Last week: Marc Chagall on where art begins.
Next week: Milorad Krstić and a world that is more powerful than realilty.
See the index for what’s been posted and what’s to come.
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