In bed that night I invented a special drain that would be underneath every pillow in New York, and would connect to the reservoir. Whenever people cried themselves to sleep, the tears would all go to the same place, and in the morning the weathermen could report if the water level of the Reservoir of Tears had gone up or down, and you could know if New York was in heavy boots. And when something really terrible happened - like a nuclear bomb, or at least a biological weapons attack - an extremely loud siren would go off, telling everyone to get to Central Park to put sandbags around the reservoir.
by Jonathan Safran Foer
(0 Reviews)

In the book "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer, the protagonist imagines a unique solution to the emotional struggles of people in New York City. He envisions a special drain installed under every pillow, channeling the tears shed by the city's inhabitants into a central reservoir. This Reservoir of Tears would serve as a metaphorical gauge for the city's collective sorrow, allowing weathermen to report on the city's emotional state based on the water level, revealing when the city is experiencing significant grief.

This imaginative concept takes a darker turn when the protagonist considers the implications of catastrophic events. He suggests that in moments of crisis, like a nuclear attack, a loud siren would alert the public to come together and support the reservoir with sandbags. This reflects not only the depth of his emotional awareness but also the desire for communal resilience in facing tragedy, illustrating how interconnected people's experiences and responses can be in urban life.

Stats

Categories
Votes
0
Page views
4
Update
February 21, 2025

Rate the Quote

Add Comment & Review

User Reviews

Based on 0 reviews
5 Star
0
4 Star
0
3 Star
0
2 Star
0
1 Star
0
Add Comment & Review
We'll never share your email with anyone else.
More »

Popular quotes

Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.
by Mitch Albom
Small towns are like metronomes; with the slightest flick, the beat changes.
by Mitch Albom
Look, if you say that science will eventually prove there is no God, on that I must differ. No matter how small they take it back, to a tadpole, to an atom, there is always something they can't explain, something that created it all at the end of the search. And no matter how far they try to go the other way – to extend life, play around with the genes, clone this, clone that, live to one hundred and fifty – at some point, life is over. And then what happens? When the life comes to an end? I shrugged. You see? He leaned back. He smiled. When you come to the end, that's where God begins.
by Mitch Albom
You say you should have died instead of me. But during my time on earth, people died instead of me, too. It happens every day. When lightning strikes a minute after you are gone, or an airplane crashes that you might have been on. When your colleague falls ill and you do not. We think such things are random. But there is a balance to it all. One withers, another grows. Birth and death are part of a whole.
by Mitch Albom
we get so many lives between birth and death. A life to be a child. A life to come of age. A life to wander, to settle, to fall in love, to parent, to test our promise, to realize our mortality-and, in some lucky cases, to do something after that realization.
by Mitch Albom
I have the tendency to be nervous at the sight of trouble looming. As the danger draws near, I become less nervous. When the peril is at hand, I swell with fierceness. As I grapple with my assailant, I am without fear and fight to the finish with little thought of injury.
by Jean Sasson
The nun said, I can forgive the language. I'm not sure I can forgive your making an obscene gesture at your mother. Ya gotta know her, Holland said. If you knew her, you'd give her the finger, too.
by John Sandford
But an ink brush, she thinks, is a skeleton key for a prisoner's mind.
by David Mitchell
There's lying," says Mum, fishing out the envelope she wrote the directions on from her handbag, "which is wrong, and there's creating the right impression, which is necessary.
by David Mitchell
Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty.
by David Mitchell