He was biding his time and waiting with sad patience until life would open up for him as he desired it should.
He was a musing discontented, lonely reader of books, of which there are so many in America scattered thinly and almost pathetically throughout the towns and cities: easy to hurt, open to abuse and scorn, much too sensitive in a thoughtful formal loneliness to withstand the harsh buffooneries, the horseplay, the animal brutality, the wild carelessness of a savage rhapsodic America in its shouting youthfulness. He was alone and fearful, and sometimes also scornful. He was different from other kids his age who generally spent their time in ice cream parlors, on drugstore corners, on athletic fields. He was different from them and he was proud of it. At seventeen now, now, he may be walking home from the library at evening with a few books under his arm, or taking solitary walks, or sitting in his window reading. He goes to the library and spends the morning poring reflectivity through several biographies. Every now and then he looks up with amused but rather sheepish smile. The Town and The City, Jack Kerouac
I don’t know what has happened to the world since 2000. And after 2019, it feels as if the world keeps turning upside down even more … I was always a big fan of libraries. I can be very moody (I could be very, very, very moody) but as I entered libraries always felt calm, as if I just got an injection of anesthesia. I've learned over the years my personality where going into the world of books and losing myself there is the the best medicine ever. Biographies, literature, poetry, philosophies, science & etc. No, millions of books. Inspiration, hope, love. I love all libraries, but only three are my favorite: my hole-in-the-wall library in Ukraine (home town), Locust Valley & Lowell.
He was biding his time and waiting with sad patience until life would open up for him as he desired it should.
He was a musing discontented, lonely reader of books, of which there are so many in America scattered thinly and almost pathetically throughout the towns and cities: easy to hurt, open to abuse and scorn, much too sensitive in a thoughtful formal loneliness to withstand the harsh buffooneries, the horseplay, the animal brutality, the wild carelessness of a savage rhapsodic America in its shouting youthfulness. He was alone and fearful, and sometimes also scornful. He was different from other kids his age who generally spent their time in ice cream parlors, on drugstore corners, on athletic fields. He was different from them and he was proud of it. At seventeen now, now, he may be walking home from the library at evening with a few books under his arm, or taking solitary walks, or sitting in his window reading. He goes to the library and spends the morning poring reflectivity through several biographies. Every now and then he looks up with amused but rather sheepish smile. The Town and The City, Jack Kerouac
I don’t know what has happened to the world since 2000. And after 2019, it feels as if the world keeps turning upside down even more … I was always a big fan of libraries. I can be very moody (I could be very, very, very moody) but as I entered libraries always felt calm, as if I just got an injection of anesthesia. I've learned over the years my personality where going into the world of books and losing myself there is the the best medicine ever. Biographies, literature, poetry, philosophies, science & etc. No, millions of books. Inspiration, hope, love. I love all libraries, but only three are my favorite: my hole-in-the-wall library in Ukraine (home town), Locust Valley & Lowell.