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Portland Quotes

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Portland Quotes

“Portland was a dream both in the literal sense and the metaphorical sense, both tangible and not - a fleeting affair you want to hold on to but can't, so you try memorizing her every detail only to fail to do so in the consumption, in the savoring, in the absorbing of yourself into her. When she's gone, she comes to you in snippets, replaying in your mind like a fragmented picture show.”

LoveWritingInspirationMemoriesTravelLongingMemoryMetaphorLustWanderlustOregonMetaphorsPortland
Author:Jackie Haze, Borderless
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“Finally I just put the box containing the brownie mix down into the snow, crouched down against a building, and pulled my pea coat over my head. Breathing into it, I managed to generate a little heat. I pressed the flaps of the coat against my ears until I could feel them again. Aside from my frozen feet, I warmed up enough this way to be able to continue. Picking up the box, I got up and once again faced the harsh elements. There was little sign of life, and with this cold wind, I could easily have gotten frostbite. Most people who lived in Maine had better sense than to be out under these arctic conditions. The plows had not cleared the streets yet, and behind me I could see a lone car spinning its wheels, trying in vain to make the steep grade. Once again I had to put down the box. I took off my gloves and tried to warm my hands by blowing onto them, as I did a little dance stomping my feet, but nothing helped anymore; my hands and feet were numb. When I picked the box up again, the bottom was caked with snow, making matters even worse! With only a short distance left I thought about Ann and the aroma from baking brownies, so I continued trudging on. I could now see the statue of Longfellow, slouched in his massive chair. “Hi, Henry. What do you think of this glorious weather?” Not getting an answer was answer enough. I was convinced that his bronze butt was frozen to the chair, but in spite of the weather, he still looked comfortable!”

Captain Hank BrackerMainePortlandBrowniesMaine HistoryLongfellow Square
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Salty & Saucy Maine"
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“Prior to my first voyage at sea, my father advised me to always get to know the cooks. Sometimes I’d step in and wash pots and pans or help lift a heavy case of something. It worked on my first voyage and still did now. Many times I’d help carry boxes of food and store their contents in the pantry. So after dropping a few hints, the cooks did me a favor and put out a box containing milk, butter, cocoa, sugar and flour. This acquisition was for the rich chocolate brownies that Ann would make for me to bring back to the ship. They must have been the most delicious brownies since everyone, including the cooks, expected me to bring them some. When I got to the galley, I could see the box they had prepared for me sitting on a counter, but I was looking through a heavy wire mesh securing the area, and the only access door had one of the big brass government locks on it. For a fleeting moment, I thought that I would not be able to get the precious ingredients that were so near and yet inaccessible, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I could climb over the top where a section of the mesh was missing. It took some gymnastics, but I was young and agile enough to get in and out with the box, without leaving any evidence of the entry. When I think of some of the chances I took for the most ridiculous reasons, I’m surprised that I ever made it to graduation, but everyone counted on me to deliver the brownies and I wasn’t about to let them down. I later found out that the cooks purposely left the galley unlocked for me, but then someone on the security watch took it upon themselves to lock it. Who knows?”

MmaMeCaptain Hank BrackerSea StoriesPortlandGoing To SeaSs Waterman
Author:Hank Bracker
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“So many questions crowd my brain at once, it’s like one of the famous Portland fogs has swept up from the ocean and settled there, making it impossible to think normal, functional thoughts. We’re sitting on the floor of the living room, which is squashed up right next to the “dining room”, and I’m holding Jenny's workbook on my knees, reciting the problems to her, but my mind is on autopilot and my thoughts are a million miles away. Or rather, they’re exactly 3.4 miles away, down at the marshy edge of Back Cove.”

PortlandBlurryFoggyDelirium TrilogyLena Haloway
Book:Delirium
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“I have a hunch the world is darker than I could ever imagine and there is less reason for hope than I am able to see. It makes me grateful there is only so much I can see, and I am left mostly with questions. Grateful, also, that hope is not a reasonable thing. Though I have seen my share of darkness, I am spared perceiving much of it. And here is why I hope beyond a reasonable doubt: I think that as the darkness grows, it makes the dim lights that are left seem brighter. And the darker it gets, the brighter the light appears, until it is so luminous, eventually, even falling shadows are filled with it.”

FictionBoatSailingLiterary FictionFiction NovelPortlandSailboatBoatsFiction NovelsPortland OregonLiterary Fiction AuthorsBoatingSailboatsLiveaboardLiveaboardsNautical FictionOoliganOoligan PressOregon Writers
Book:At the Waterline
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“Trying to decide---I can't say if you should wait in line at Salt & Straw or Voodoo Doughnuts. Do you have a preference?" "Not waiting in line? Portlanders are surprisingly willing to wait for their food." "They're willing to wait when the food is worth their time. I think Salt & Straw. And really, they've got a smart setup to keep your wait as short as possible, and they give out samples while you're in line. At least, they did when I was there." "And this is... artisanal salt? And straw?" "It's ice cream," I said with a laugh. "Really good ice cream, with fun, inventive flavors. And even if you don't want inventive, the basics are worth the wait." "Well, if you're sending me to ice cream, then you have to get Cat to take you to Black Dog Gelato. Once you're back in Chicago, at least.”

ChicagoRecommendationsPortlandIce Cream Shoppe
Book:Together at the Table
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“Our laughter became more raucous as our fooling around intensified. All this suddenly ended when we heard a loud intense knocking on the door. Once again, the doctor had had enough and came up to complain about the noise we were making. These old houses didn’t have any insulation between the walls to dampen the noise. Instead, it was kind of like being inside a drum. In a way, I could understand why he was upset and we could have been more considerate, but on the other hand, we just didn’t give a damn! It might also have been that he knew what we were doing and didn’t like it. In the puritanical 1950’s this sort of thing was frequently frowned upon and perhaps still is, but inconsiderate as it may have been, we didn’t care! Es tut mir leid! (German for I’m sorry! Said in a sarcastic way.) Laughing, Ann told the doctor that we would behave. As he started back down the stairs, she turned to me and said, “Let’s go down to the basement.”

MaineSea StoriesPortlandMaine Maritime AcademyYoung Adults
Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Salty & Saucy Maine"
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“The little car was soon free of the city, for the smear of suburbia that had once lain along the western highways for miles was gone. During the Plague Years of the eighties, when in some areas not one person in twenty remained alive, the suburbs were not a good place to be. Miles from the supermart, no gas for the car, and all the split-level ranch homes around you full of the dead. No help, no food. Packs of huge status-symbol dogs—Afghans, Alsatians, Great Danes—running wild across the lawns ragged with burdock and plantain. Picture window cracked. Who’ll come and mend the broken glass? People had huddled back into the old core of the city; and once the suburbs had been looted, they burned. Like Moscow in 1812, acts of God or vandalism: they were no longer wanted, and they burned. Fireweed, from which bees make the finest honey of all, grew acre after acre over the sites of Kensington Homes West, Sylvan Oak Manor Estates, and Valley Vista Park.”

Speculative FictionOregonPost ApocalypticPortlandPost ApocalypseUrban DecayThe Lathe Of Heaven
Book:The Lathe Of Heaven
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“I trained with the FBI in Portland and I also had many conversations with female FBI agents in Los Angeles, as well. That was again something that also came in very handy for Basic, because I'd learned already how to handle a gun and how to behave just physically when you're in a situation, a threat. That was very good to know.”

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Author:Connie Nielsen
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“Statistically, Portland, Oregon has the most street kids, like kids that run away from home and live on the street. Its like a whole culture thing there. If you walk around on the streets, there are kids living on the streets, begging for money, but its almost like a cool thing. They all just sit around and play music and squat.”

IfsPlayWholeHomeRunningKidsCultureWalksStreetsRunning AwayBeggingLiving OnCool ThingsAway From HomeOregonSquatPortlandPortland Oregon
Author:Laura Ramsey
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“Well, my dad was into music, but he wasn't into me being into music. In my house when I was a kid, when I was real young, my dad wanted us all to play sports, and we were jock-like. We had a lot of money. And my brother was sort of the light of our family, and he was a good athlete. And I wasn't a very good athlete, but I tried to be. And then when I was 15 my dad went bankrupt, and we moved to Houston. And I went with him, but then I went back to Portland.”

WellsRealPlayLightKidsWantedYoungHouseSportsBrotherDadMovedMy DadVery GoodAthleteOur FamilyMy BrotherLots Of MoneyHoustonJocksPortlandGood Athlete
Author:Todd Snider
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“Traditionally, when we lived here [in Portland], we have a record player in the living room, and there's lots of stuff playing, all different kinds of music. I don't listen to any of those Internet radio things. I have iTunes on my thing, but I've never bought a single thing on it. Except for "Call Me Maybe," for the kids or whatever. Carly Rae Jepsen.”

KindDifferentKidsStuffRoomsRecordsPlayerInternetRadioCall MeDifferent KindsLiving RoomPortlandItunesDifferent Kinds Of MusicRecord Players
Author:Stephen Malkmus
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“This is where the question always come up, "Aren't you going to split the vote?" To which the obvious answer is: Well let's just rank peoples' choices. This is a voting system we use across the country, from San Francisco to Portland, Maine, and the Twin Cities. It's used very successfully in single-office elections like mayor. It could be used for governor.”

WellsCountryUseUsedChoicesAnswersCitiesOfficeVoteElectionCome UpObviousVotingSplitsGovernorsTwinsSan FranciscoMayorsMainePortland
Author:Jill Stein
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“There are still many writers out in the Bay, extraordinary writers like Gina Valdez, a poet who I just saw in Portland. We have young people like Eduardo Corral, who won the Yale Younger Poets Award. José Antonio Rodriguez, published by Luis Rodriguez. But there are only a few of us who are paid attention to in New York. There are legions behind us who are not.”

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Author:Sandra Cisneros
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“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.”

MenEyeNightSawsMinutesTheaterJazzHis EyesResolveFifteenOne NightJazz MusicSaxophonePortland
Book:Blue Like Jazz: Movie Edition: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
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“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes. After that I liked jazz music. Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way. I used to not like God because God didn't resolve. But that was before any of this happened.”

IfsMenWaySometimesEyeUsedNightWatchesSawsHappenedMinutesTheaterJazzHis EyesResolveFifteenOne NightJazz MusicSaxophonePortland
Book:Blue Like Jazz: Movie Edition: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
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“I wish I could close my eyes and be blown into dust and nothingness, feel all my thoughts disperse like dandelion fluff drifting off on the wind. But his hands keep pulling me back: into the alley, and Portland, and a world that has suddenly stopped making sense.”

WorldFeelsHandsEyeWishWindDustMake SensePullingNothingnessMy ThoughtsAlleysDriftingDeliriumDandelionsPortlandFluffDrifting Off
Book:Delirium Trilogy: Delirium, Pandemonium, Requiem
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