Patricia Reilly Giff (1935) American children's writer
Source: Water Street (2006), Prologue, p. 3
Fiction, The Doctor is Sick (1960)
Patricia Reilly Giff (1935) American children's writer
Source: Water Street (2006), Prologue, p. 3
Ayn Rand book Atlas Shrugged
The Fountainhead (1943).
Source: Atlas Shrugged
Context: That particular sense of sacred rapture men say they experience in contemplating nature- I've never received it from nature, only from. Buildings, Skyscrapers. I would give the greatest sunset in the world for one sight of New York's skyline. The shapes and the thought that made them. The sky over New York and the will of man made visible. What other religion do we need? And then people tell me about pilgrimages to some dank pest-hole in a jungle where they go to do homage to a crumbling temple, to a leering stone monster with a pot belly, created by some leprous savage. Is it beauty and genius they want to see? Do they seek a sense of the sublime? Let them come to New York, stand on the shore of the Hudson, look and kneel. When I see the city from my window - no, I don't feel how small I am - but I feel that if a war came to threaten this, I would like to throw myself into space, over the city, and protect these buildings with my body.
Morton Feldman (1926–1987) American avant-garde composer
At that moment . . . Jackson Pollock was crossing the street.
Quoted in in "AMERICAN SUBLIME : Morton Feldman's mysterious musical landscapes", by Alex Ross. in The New Yorker (19 June 2006)
Henry James (1843–1916) American novelist, short story author, and literary critic
"Nathaniel Hawthorne" in Library of the World's Best Literature, vol. XII (1897), ed. Charles Dudley Warner.
Clarence Stein (1882–1975) American architect
A Triumph of Spanish Colonial Style (1916)
Anita Brookner (1928–2016) British novelist and art historian.
Making Things Better (2002)
Brian W. Aldiss book Outside
Outside (1955)
Context: The house was a rambling affair. It had few windows, and such as there were did not open, were unbreakable and admitted no light. Darkness lay everywhere; illumination from an invisible source followed one's entry into a room — the black had to be entered before it faded. Every room was furnished, but with odd pieces that bore little relation to each other, as if there was no purpose for the room. Rooms equipped for purposeless beings have that air about them.
James Dickey (1923–1997) American writer
The Hospital Window (l. 1–4).
The Whole Motion; Collected Poems, 1945-1992 (1992)