Sublime
An inspiration engine for ideas
indifferent to the truth or to the sensibilities of whites—which,
Joan Didion • After Henry: Essays
was of a city systematically ruined, violated, raped by its underclass.
Joan Didion • After Henry: Essays
I suppose that what I really wanted to say that day at my daughter’s school is that we never reach a point at which our lives lie before us as a clearly marked open road, never have and never should expect a map to the years ahead, never do close those circles that seem, at thirteen and fourteen and nineteen, so urgently in need of closing.
Joan Didion • After Henry: Essays
op-ed
Joan Didion • After Henry: Essays
During those years I was traveling on what I knew to be a very shaky passport, forged papers: I knew that I was no legitimate resident in any world of ideas. I knew I couldn’t think. All I knew then was what I couldn’t do. All I knew then was what I wasn’t, and it took me some years to discover what I was. Which was a writer. By which I mean not a
... See moreJoan Didion • Let Me Tell You What I Mean
This perfect recycling tended to present itself, in the narcosis of the event, as a model for the rest: like American political life itself, and like the printed and transmitted images on which that life depended. This was a world with no half-life. It was understood that what was said here would go on the wire and vanish.
Joan Didion • After Henry: Essays
quince,
Joan Didion • Miami
"My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out."
Didion, Joan. "Introduction".
... See moreJohn wandered into the room, wearing a blue bathrobe. “I got the Saturday jits,” he said. “I got anxiety crawling over me. Do you have any coke?” She went to the kitchen to get him a Coca Cola. “Joan never writes about a place that’s not hot,” he said. “The day she writes about a Boston winter will be the day it’s all over.”