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Quote by Michela Murgia

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Tre ciotole

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Michela Murgia

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“As children, we played cowboys and Indians through the fields and forests, looking for foes as though being set upon was the worst we’d face. As children we found horseshoes, dusty hidden treasures buried in dirt, and we’d take them home and hang them on our walls alongside our Farrah and football posters. Innately we knew that someday we’d grow out of this, so mornings and afternoons we’d carry on, content, a real word in our small vocabulary.”

Growing UpChildhoodPoemFutureInnocenceMaturityAdulthoodReflections
Author:Scott C. Holstad
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“I still feel that most F/SF is aimed at people who refuse to grow up. This is ironical because the proportion of genre readers who refuse to grow up has actually gone down a little since I made those criticisms. (I should remind people that I was by no means the first to make them.) What locks the field into juvenility these days is not writer/reader feedback: it's the intense determination of corporate publishers to maintain an audience of extended adolescents. People who don't grow up properly buy more things, especially hacky-slashy faery Game Boy virtual world-building sorts of things.”

FantasyGrowing UpCorporateGrow UpSfAdolescents
Author:M. John Harrison
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“Kindness Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you held in your hand, what you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the regions of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will never stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stare out the window forever. Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.”

PoetryKindnessSorrow
Book:Words under the words: selected poems
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“I had ambushed myself by believing, to the letter, my parents' definition of me. They had defined me early on, coined me like a word they have translated on some mysterious hieroglyph, and I had spent my life coming to terms with that specious coinage. My parents had succeeded in making me a stranger to myself. They had turned me into the exact image of what they needed at the time, and because there was something essentially complaisant and orthodox in my nature, I allowed them to knead and shape me into the smooth lineaments of their nonpareil child.”

LoveGrowing UpParentsSelf Identity
Book:The Prince of Tides
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