There was something unmistakably exultant about the mess that Rosa had made. Her bedroom-studio was at once the canvas, journal, museum, and… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
The midnight disease is a kind of emotional insomnia; at ever conscious moment its victim—even if he or she writes at dawn,… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Her bedroom-studio was at once the canvas, journal, museum, and midden of her life. She did not “decorate” it; she infused it.” — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
Entertainment is a sacred pursuit when done well. When done well, it raises the quality of human life. — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Anyway, it's a pretty good story," I said. "You have to admit." "Yeah?" He crumpled up the Kleenex, having dispatched the solitary tear. "You… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
There were so many Pittsburgh poets in my hallway that if, at that instant, a meteorite had come smashing through my roof, there would… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Badass.'" My grandfather sampled the flavor of the word. It did not seem to revolt him, but it was nothing he needed ever to… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
See you in the funny papers," he said. Jaunty, he reminded himself; always jaunty. In my panache is their hope for salvation. — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“I didn't want to be left alone with Timothy, not because I was afraid of him but because I was afraid that somebody would… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“He had already seized this particular day once, but he was prepared, if need be, to go ahead and seize the motherfucker all over… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“We figure he must have let him out. The perpetrator, I mean. He's blind and we figure he just wandered off and maybe got… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Then I reminded myself that I was always willing to listen to arguments in favor of avoiding an unpleasant chore, and I shook my… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Love great first lines and paragraphs. From The Yiddish Policemen's Union: Nine months Landsman's been flopping at the Hotel Zamenhof without any of his… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
“Life blew in gusts from the hole in the side of the elephant with a rank smell and a comic flatulence.” — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
Not only would I never want to belong to any club that would have me for a member--if elected I would wear street shoes… — Michael Chabon Copy Share Image
