Patricia Lockwood

No One Is Talking About This

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  • Valeria Valderramahas quoted3 years ago
    Why did the portal feel so private, when you only entered it when you needed to be everywhere?
  • Cintia Reyeshas quoted3 years ago
    White people, who had the political educations of potatoes—lumpy, unseasoned, and biased toward the Irish—were suddenly feeling compelled to speak out about injustice. This happened once every forty years on average, usually after a period when folk music became popular again. When folk music became popular again, it reminded people that they had ancestors, and then, after a considerable delay, that their ancestors had done bad things.
  • kinokitohas quoted3 years ago
    Don’t normalize it!!!!!” we shouted at each other. But all we were normalizing was the use of the word normalize, which sounded like the action of a ray gun wielded by a guy named Norm to make everyone around him Norm as well
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    “A minute means something to her, more than it means to us. We don’t know how long she has—I can give them to her, I can give her my minutes.” Then, almost angrily, “What was I doing with them before?”
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    The things she wanted the baby to know seemed small, so small. How it felt to go to a grocery store on vacation; to wake at three a.m. and run your whole life through your fingertips; first library card; new lipstick; a toe going numb for two months because you wore borrowed shoes to a friend’s
    wedding; Thursday; October; “She’s Like the Wind” in a dentist’s office; driver’s license picture where you look like a killer; getting your bathing suit back on after you go to the bathroom; touching a cymbal for sound and then touching it again for silence; playing house in the refrigerator box; letting a match burn down to the fingerprints; one hand in the Scrabble bag and then I I I O U E A; eyes racing to the end of Villette (skip the parts about the crétin, sweetheart); hamburger wrappers on a road trip; the twist of a heavy red apple in an orchard; word on the tip of the tongue; the portal, but just for a minute.
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    What did we have a right to expect from this life? What were the terms of the contract? What had the politician promised us? The realtor, walking us through being’s beautiful house? Could we sue? We would sue! Could we blow it all open? We would blow it all open! Could we . . . could we post about it?
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    She herself was named godmother, a word she could never hear without seeing a wand turning things into other things.
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    How far did a word have to travel from its source in order to become unrecognizable?
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    Would the impulse to walk down the aisle to “The Imperial March”—which seemed the essence of survival itself, the little tune we hummed in the dark—would that make it out of whatever was happening alive?
  • browniehas quoted3 years ago
    In Vienna the little cakes looked like the big buildings, or else the big buildings looked like the little cakes.
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