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Quote by Sarah Vowell

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Assassination Vacation

This book combines travelogue with historical inquiry, chronicling the author's journey to visit locations where famous assassinations took place. The author offers a light-hearted perspective on these events, blending personal anecdotes with historical facts. more

Author

Sarah Vowell
Sarah Vowell

Sarah Vowell (born December 27, 1969) is an American author, journalist, and voice actress known for her humorous and insightful nonfiction works. She was born in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and grew up in Bozeman, Montana. Vowell is celebrated for her unique take on American history, blending personal anecdotes with historical analysis. Her notable books include 'Assassination Vacation' and 'The Wordy Shipmates.' She also voiced the character 'Mirage' in the animated film 'The Incredibles.' Vowell has contributed to The New York Times and regularly appears on the radio show 'This American Life.' Her writing style is witty, ironic, and deeply humanistic, exploring themes of identity, memory, and national identity. more

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“It’s all about having the heart … to leave the city and its false glitter for home if you’ve tried long enough and still can’t make it. I would be a big liar to tell you it’s easy to survive after having left home for years. You’re almost like a child when you return – you are starting from the scratch. But you have to behave like a child too if you’re ready to survive; be ever eager to learn. Get ready to take insults from every village rats set to eat your yams of respect and pride. Toe the line till you settle down properly and begin to understand the ways of the people back home. People would laugh at you at first but when your conditions start improving, everyone would laugh with you. Don’t forget the saying of our people: the same mouth that speaks of evil is the same mouth that speaks of good. It’s the heart to go back not minding the years that have been wasted. That is the secret.”

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“وها أنت تتخلّصُ ممّا كان يمتنعُ عليك التخلّصُ منه، تلك المدينة، مدينتي، التي توهّمتُ أنّها ستكون حاضرةً للأبد، شديدةَ الرسُوخِ، وعَصِيّةً على الالتهام، فأغذّي أنا أيضًا شراهتي في تدميرِها وهلاكِها. هي تفرُّ وأنا لا أعُودُ”

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“On that momentous day of my first return to my grandfather’s place in Ojoto after many years of my sojourn in America, I was lost in my thought until a light wind blew across the pedestrian path in a wooded area where I stood, caressing the trees’ leaves and small branches. The stubborn leaves swerved in all directions like untrained dancers learning to strut after consuming palm-wine from large calabash jugs. Looking up, I watched weakened leaves snapped off and gained their freedom from primordial trees. A liberation dance followed in the dense air above me before the leaves set down. Listening to beautiful sounds made by birds converging around me, as if they were singing for the newly liberated leaves, I found myself lost in the wonderment of nature. What I experienced had drawn me back to that exhilarating place for mental respite each time I returned home.”

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“Turn to the left looking down Mermod, can you hear the horn in the air, the rolling on the tracks as those boxcars rush bye thru town, look the buds are opening the leaves are spreading and the lawn might need a cut soon, all at the courthouse square, turn and peer back over the other shoulder. You can and still faintly see the hill off in the distance, once a furniture store to the left and a bakery to the right, maybe a trim at Dean Barbershop, or go by, stop and say howdy to Karen and Tony Veralrud at the pharmacy or pick up things at Browns Grocery, that car roof glistens and climbs over the rise to disappear, another day in our little hometown.”

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“And, my God, was it really not she he met later, far from the shores of their homeland, under an alien sky, in the torrid South, in the marvellous Eternal City, in the brilliance of a ball, to the thunder of music, in a palazzo (it absolutely must be a palazzo), drowned in a sea of lights, on this balcony, wreathed with myrtle and roses, where she, upon recognising him, so hastily took off her mask and whispered: "I am free", and trembling, threw herself into his arms, and with a cry of rapture, they embraced, and in an instant they forgot sorrow, separation, all their torments, the gloomy house, the old man, the dismal garden in their distant homeland, the bench on which, with one last passionate kiss, she had torn herself away from his arms, numb from torments of despair?”

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