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What, really, was the difference between something hounding you and something leading you somewhere?

Marisha Pessl

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Marisha Pessl
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: October 26
Writer
Clarkston
Michigan
Something
Really
Leading
Somewhere
Difference
Differences

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In America, people of a certain age ask, 'Where were you when Kennedy was shot?' In my house you were more likely to be asked, 'Where were you when you first read 'The Catcher In The Rye?
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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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Mortal fear is as crucial a thing to our lives as love. It cuts to the core of our being and shows us what we are. Will you step back and cover your eyes? Or will you have the strength to walk to the precipice and look out?
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Sadly, American teenagers are to a weightless vacuum as seat cushions are to polyurethane foam -
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God, the boring relative everyone ignores--no one calls, no one writes--until they need a serious favor.
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It's not fair. It's not. But then, that's the game. It makes life great. The fact that it ends when we don't want it to. The ending gives it meaning.
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May you walk a lighted path. May you fight for truth - your truth, not someone else's - and may you understand, above all things, that you are the most important concept, theory, and philosophy I have ever known.
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...the deepest secrets about ourselves that we, in the ultimate act of humanity, will spare those we truly love.
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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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Just when you think you've hit rock bottom, you realize you're standing on another trapdoor.
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Like that lightning that comes out of the blue when there's not even a storm going on, just a crazy crack in the sky. With something like that right in front of you, you can't help but feel there's new possibilities out there.
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…how monstrous the people you loved could be.
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To be next to her was to have everything.
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Show me what a man hates and I'll show you what he is.
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His characters are ravaged, beaten. They walk through infernos and emerged charred doves.
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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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...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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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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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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