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Author: Michael Chabon
Quotes of Author: Michael Chabon

Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
Approaching the Williamsburg Bridge - not really certain of how he had managed to find himself there - he experienced an extraordinary moment of buoyancy, of grace. There was a lot more traffic now, but his shifting was smooth and the sturdy little car was adroit at changing lanes. He launched himself out over the East River. He could feel the bridge humming underneath his wheels and all around him could sense the engineering of it, the forces and tensions and rivets that were all conspiring to keep him aloft. To the south, he glimpsed the Manhattan Bridge, with its Parisian air, refined, elegant, its skirts hiked to reveal tapered steel legs, and, beyond, the Brooklyn Bridge, like a great ropy strand of muscle. In the other direction lay the Queensboro Bridge, like two great iron tsarinas linking hands to dance. And before him, the city that had sheltered him and swallowed him and made him a modest fortune loomed, gray and brown, festooned with swags and boas of some misty gray stuff, a compound of harbor fog and spring dew and its own steamy exhalations. Hope had been his enemy, a frailty that he must at all costs master, for so long now that it was a moment before he was willing to concede that he had let it back into his heart.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
She was a large, boneless woman who draped herself like an old blanket over the chairs of the apartment, staring for hours with her gray eyes at ghosts, figments, recollections, and dust caught in oblique sunbeams, her arms streaked and pocked like relief maps of vast planets, her massive calves stuffed like forcemeat into lung-colored support hose. She was quixotically vain about her appearance and spent an hour each morning making up her face.
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Michael Chabon _ The Final Solution
The application of creative intelligence to a problem, the finding of a solution at once dogged, elegant, and wild, this had always seemed to him to be the essential business of human beings-the discovery of sense and causality amid the false leads, the noise, the trackless brambles of life. And yet he had always been haunted-had he not?-by the knowledge that there were men, lunatic cryptographers, mad detectives, who squandered their brilliance and sanity in decoding and interpreting the messages in cloud formations, in the letters of the Bible recombined, in the spots on butterflies' wings. One might, perhaps, conclude from the existence of such men that meaning dwelled solely in the mind of the analyst. That it was the insoluble problems-the false leads and the cold cases-that reflected the true nature of things. That all the apparent significance and pattern had no more intrinsic sense than the chatter of an African gray parrot. One might so conclude; really, he thought, one might.
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Michael Chabon _ Manhood for Amateurs
Every day is like a kid's drawing, offered to you with a strange mix of ceremoniousness and offhand disregard, yours for the keeping. Some of the days are rich and complicated, others inscrutable, others little more than a stray gray mark on a ragged page. Some you manage to hang on to, though your reasons for doing so are often hard to fathom. But most of them you just ball up and throw away.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
The near death of a world-famous painter in a diving accident, in a Greenwich Village drawing room, contributed an unimpeachable Surrealist luster to the party.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
They're all Jewish, superheroes. Superman, you don't think he's Jewish? Coming over from the old country, changing his name like that. Clark Kent, only a Jew would pick a name like that for himself.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
One of the sturdiest precepts of the study of human delusion is that every golden age is either past or in the offing.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
it was not a confidence in his own abilities that seemed to direct Tracy Bacon so much as an assuredness of being welcome wherever he went. He was golden and beautiful,
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Michael Chabon _ Moonglow
Kun katson nyt Challengerin miehistön kuvaa, en näe seitsemää hymyilijää, kaunista Judy Resnickiä enkä oikeastaan edes pienoismallia sinänsä. Näen vain piilotetut rakastavaiset, joiden kohtalot ovat kietoutuneet toisiinsa kuin heidän vartalonsa ja jotka odottavat kiihkeästi vapautuvansa painovoimasta, joka on aina pitänyt heidät maassa.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
As a rule, they tended to avoid questions like "How sane are we?" and "Do our lives have meaning?" The need for avoidance was acute and apparent to both of them.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
She could not help it. She had a catastrophic imagination; an air of imminent doom darkens much of even her sunniest work.
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Michael Chabon _ The Amazing Adventures of
It was just an old clock, your honor," he told Smith, looking at once relieved and disappointed. "In the desk of a Mister … Clay. Taped to a couple of dowels painted red." "I knew it," said Joe softly, starting in on the second little box. "Dynamite isn't even red," the old fireman said, walking off. "Not really." "The guy reads too much comic books," Joe said.
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