Friday, September 7, 2012


I have an unreasonable love for quotations (and yes, they are quotations, quote is the verb, not a noun). As in, I write down funny quotations from my friends, family, and professors; keep a running notebook of famous quotations; and have more posters, postcards, and other tidbits scattered on my walls than any self-respecting 18-year-old should. I characterize this as an unreasonable love for two reasons. The first is obvious, I clearly like these cultural artifacts more than many and put much greater effort into pursuing them than they are probably worth. The second, however, is more complex, and, frankly, more depressing. What the hell to quotations do for us? I mean, sure, in the moment I'm inspired, perhaps even led to a new perspective, but then they sit, written in multi-colored pen in a spiral notebook with the Celtic tree of life on the cover in my desk drawer. We (humans) have all of these lovely ideas that never become anything. Perhaps that's a little too pessimistic, but as far as I'm concerned, it's just sad.

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