A Quote from ‘Bad Feminist,’ page 151

There are things that rip my skin open and reveal what lies beneath, but I don’t believe in trigger warnings. I don’t believe people can be protected from their histories. I don’t believe it is at all possible to anticipate the histories of others.


Writers cannot protect their readers from themselves, nor should they be expected to.

—Roxane Gay, basically giving me the exact words to sum up my feelings about trigger warnings.

A Quote from ‘Bad Feminist,’ page 60

The incredible problem Girls faces is that all we want is everything from each movie or television show or book that promises to offer a new voice, a relatable voice, an important voice. We want, and rightly so, to believe our lives deserve to be new, relatable, and important. We want to see more complex, nuanced depictions of what it really means to be whoever we are or were or hope to be. We just want so much. We just need so much.

—Roxane Gay, Bad Feminist.

I can’t believe I’m just getting around to this now. She’s such a badass.

A Quote from ‘Olive Kitteridge,’ page 202-203

“She leaned forward, peering out the window: sweet pale clouds, the sky as blue as your hat, the new green of the fields, the broad expanse of water—seen from up here it all appeared wondrous, amazing. She remembered what hope was, and this was it. That inner churning that moves you forward, plows you through life the way the boats below plowed the shiny water, the way the plane was plowing forward to a place new, and where she was needed. She had been asked to be part of her son’s life.”

Minor Angels by Antoine Volodine, page 132

Then you could realize that the ostracism inflicted on Baldakchan was without foundation. There was no brutality in Baldakchan’s harmonies, nothing grimly intellectual about his melodies. They were terribly moving. It is true that the audience now judging Bldakchan’s work was far closer to the ideal listeners he had in mind as he composed: living wolves, immortal plucentenarians, dead wolves.


Minor Angels by Antoine Volodine, page 132

Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban, page 11

Every 1 wer saying, ‘What is it Riddley whatre you doing?’

I said, ‘My dad ben kilt by some thing I dont even know the name of ain that a larf.’ I begun larfing then I cudnt stop.

They let me have my larfing out but I wer stil wanting some thing some kynd of las word some kynd of onwith. If I wernt going to get it from Dad at leas I wantit some thing for onwith even if it wernt nothing only the name of the girt black thing what smasht him flat so you cudnt even tel whose face it ben.