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Matthew Tobin Anderson

Matthew Tobin Anderson Books

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“Perhaps his gloom was due to his profession, that he lived among fallen empires, and in reading these languages that had not been spoken by the common man in centuries, he had all about him the ruin of language, evidence of toppled suburbs, grass growing among the mosaics, and voices that had been choked with poison, iron, age, or ash.”

MenAgeReadingLanguageVoiceCommonGrowingCenturyEvidenceDuesProfessionRuinsGrassFallenPoisonEmpiresIronAshesGloomSuburbsCommon ManMosaicsGrass Growing
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“I miss that time. The cities back then, just after the forests died, were full of wonders, and you'd stumble on them--these princes of the air on common rooftops--the rivers that burst through the city streets so they ran like canals--the rabbits in parking garages--the deer foaling, nestled in Dumpsters like a Nativity.”

CommonCitiesWonderAirStreetsMissingRiversDiedForestsRanRabbitsGarageDeerParkingCanalsRooftopsCity StreetsNativityDumpsters
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“...for reading, once begun, quickly becomes home and circle and court and family, and indeed, without narrative, I felt exiled from my own country. By the transport of books, that which is most foreign becomes one's familiar walks and avenues; while that which is most familiar is removed to delightful strangeness; and unmoving, one travels infinite causeways, immobile and thus unfettered.”

BookCountryHomeReadingFeltMy OwnWalksInfiniteCourtCirclesFamiliarNarrativeDelightfulAvenuesTransportStrangeness
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“I wanted to say something to cheer her up. I had a feeling that cheering her up might be a lot of work. I was thinking of how sometimes, trying to say the right thing to people, it’s like some kind of brain surgery, and you have to tweak exactly the right part of the lobe. Except with talking, it’s more like brain surgery with old, rusted skewers and things, maybe like those things you use to eat lobster, but brown. And you have to get exactly the right place, and you’re touching around in the brain but the patient, she keeps jumping and saying, “Ow.”

PeopleThinkingTryingKindSometimesUseFeelingsMightWantedBrainTalkingPatientRight ThingBrownTouchingCheerSurgeryJumpingRight PlaceLobsterTweakBrain Surgery
Author:Matthew Tobin Anderson
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“I don’t know. D’you think? He’s pretty wide in the chest.” The girl looked at me, and I was frozen. So I said, “Yeah. I work out.” Violet asked me, “What are you? What’s your cup size?” I shrugged and played along. “Like, nine and a half?” I guessed. “That’s my shoe size.” Violet said, “I think he’d like something slinky, kind of silky.” I said, “As long as you can stop me from rubbing myself up against a wall the whole time.” “Okay,” said Violet, holding her hands up like she was annoyed. “Okay, the chemise last week was a mistake.”

ThinkingKnowsKindLongSaidWholeHandsLastsGirlMistakeHalfWeekWallOkayYeahShoesSizeWork OutWideNineCupsChestsFrozenVioletAnnoyedLike SomethingHands UpSlinkies
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“It’s the end. It’s the end of the civilization. We’re going down. No, it’s sure not too attractive. Lenticels. I just hope my kids don’t live to see the last days. The things burning and people living in cellars. Violet. The only thing worse than the thought it may all come tumbling down is the thought that we may go on like this forever.”

PeopleMayEndsKidsLastsForeverGoes OnCivilizationBurningAttractiveVioletLast DayCellarsTumblingTumbling Down
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“...they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.”

MindStillsBodyRealityEyePainBlackWhiteDarknessEventsObjectsColorIllusionBoundsNeedlesPhysical Body
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“We are the nation of dreams. We are seers. We are wizards. We speak in visions. Our letters are like flocks of doves, released from under our hats. We have only to stretch out our hand and desire, and what we wish for settles like a kerchief in our palm. We are a race of sorcerers, enchanters. We are Atlantis. We are the wizard-isle of Mu.”

DreamHandsDesireSpeakNationsWishRaceVisionLettersSettlingHatsPalmsWizardsFlocksDoveSeersIsleAtlantis
Author:Matthew Tobin Anderson
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