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Some people are as fragile as butterflies and sensitive and it’s your responsibility not to destroy them. Just because you can

Marisha Pessl

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Marisha Pessl
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: October 26
Writer
Clarkston
Michigan
Sensitive
Destroy
Responsibility
People
Butterflies
Butterfly
Fragile

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Good bands you can kind of lose, then come back and realize they're still good.
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His characters are ravaged, beaten. They walk through infernos and emerged charred doves.
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Dad's Theory of Arrogance--that everyone always assumes they're the Principal Character of Desire and/or Loathing in everybody else's Broadway Play.
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I'm not afraid of total failure. In the end, we're all just food for worms, so what are we so worried about?
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Funnily enough, it is the subject one dreads talking about at length one ends up talking about at length, often without the slightest provocation.
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Making love to Aurelia was like rummaging through a card catalog in a deserted library, searching for one very obscure, little-read entry on Hungarian poetry.
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I was aware now, as ever, that between all people there were First Times You See Them and Last Times you See Them.
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Show me what a man hates and I'll show you what he is.
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Such things as anguish, woe, affliction, guilt, feelings of awfulness, and utter wretchedness, the bread and butter of Days of Yore and Russians, sadly have very little staying power in these lickety-split Modern Times.
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It was never the act itself but our own understanding of it that defeated us, over and over again.
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It’s got to be some kind of cult. Anyone offers you Kool-Aid or a hot shower, say no.
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It’s what we chase but never find. It is the mystery of our lives, the understanding that even when we have everything we want it is one day to leave us. It’s the something unseen, the lurking devastation, the darkness that gives our lives dimension.
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...I couldn't let go of the thought that it had, in fact, been he, restless and moody Heathcliff. Day after day, he floated through all the Wal-Marts in America, searching for me in a million lonely aisles.
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Sovereign. Deadly. Perfect.
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Certainly one of the surprising truths of having a book published is realizing that your book is as open to interpretation as an abstract painting. People bring their own beliefs and attitudes to your work, which is thrilling and surprising at the same time.
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Some people, every now and then, simply had to have One Too Many, go drifty voiced and slouch mouthed, swimming willfully around in their own sadness as if it were hot springs.
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Life was a freight train barreling toward just one stop, our loved ones streaking past our windows in blurs of color and light. There was no holding on to any of it, and no slowing it down.
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To be next to her was to have everything.
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In college I studied '60s and '70s radicalism, student activism, forms of political violence, groups like the Weathermen, the Black Panthers, the Symbionese Liberation Army, the New Left.
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…how monstrous the people you loved could be.
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