Chris J. Rice

The world is full of stories, and from time to time they permit themselves to be told.
Old Cherokee Saying

In the end I am uplifted, profoundly so, by the bleakest, despairing work. It’s a great unburdening to read work of this sort. I do not want to be asked to pretend that everything is all right, that people are fundamentally happy, that life is perfectly fine, and that it is remotely ok that we are going to die, and soon, only to disappear into oblivion. I feel a kind of ridiculous joy when writing reveals the world, the way it feels to be in the world. That’s what hope is, a refusal to look away.

The people we create in a book come from the people we know, but the conversations that we have with them in the book are the ones that we could never have with them in real life.

Freedom of the soul, I feel, was crucial for these pitiful pigeons. Without it, life is meaningless, and yet they seem never even to have heard of the word.

—Uyghur writer Nurmuhemmet Yasin was born on this day in 1974. The above is an excerpt from his story Wild Pigeon, for which he was sentenced to 10 years in prison. (via penamerican)

The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: observando, via thetinhouse)

Revision of Paula Modersohn-Becker’s, Self-Portrait with Amber Necklace, 1906 oil on canvas, 24 x 18 inches


Work of sight is achieved,

now for some heart-work

on all those pictures, those prisoned creatures within you!

You conquered them; but do not know them as yet,

Behold, O man within, the maiden within you!—

Creature won from a thousand natures, creature

only just won, but never,

as yet, belov’d.

Turning by Rainer Maria Rilke

Revision of Paula Modersohn-Becker’s, Self-Portrait with Amber Necklace, 1906 oil on canvas, 24 x 18 inches

Work of sight is achieved,

now for some heart-work

on all those pictures, those prisoned creatures within you!

You conquered them; but do not know them as yet,

Behold, O man within, the maiden within you!—

Creature won from a thousand natures, creature

only just won, but never,

as yet, belov’d.

Turning by Rainer Maria Rilke

So why do I write, torturing myself to put it down? Because in spite of myself I’ve learned some things. Without the possibility of action, all knowledge comes to one labeled “file and forget,” and I can neither file nor forget.

Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison. Ellison was born on this day in 1914. (via penamerican)

Loneliness does not come from having no people around, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views others find inadmissible.

 Carl Jung (via psych-facts)

(via mensahdemary)

Much like fairy tales, there are two facets of horror. One is pro-institution, which is the most reprehensible type of fairy tale: Don’t wander into the woods, and always obey your parents. The other type of fairy tale is completely anarchic and anti-establishment.

—Guillermo del Toro on how horror is inherently political as a genre, Time Magazine (x)

(Source: cerulean-spork, via othernotebooksareavailable)

Like a snake, my heart
has shed its skin.
I hold it here in my hand,
full of honey and wounds.

—Federico Garcia Lorca, New Heart  (via bbook)

(Source: saloandseverine, via booklover)