I’ve never really been met with indifference, where they say, ‘Who cares?’ I think that’s what good art is supposed to do. It’s not supposed to make you feel good about your own prejudices and your own values; it’s supposed to open you up in some way and get you outraged or make you happy or make you sad or whatever it’s going to do

I've never really been met with indifference, where they say, 'Who cares?' I think that's what good art is supposed to do. It's not supposed to make you feel good about your own prejudices and your own values; it's supposed to open you up in some way and get you outraged or make you happy or make you sad or whatever it's going to do

I’ve never really been met with indifference, where they say, ‘Who cares?’ I think that’s what good art is supposed to do. It’s not supposed to make you feel good about your own prejudices and your own values; it’s supposed to open you up in some way and get you outraged or make you happy or make you sad or whatever it’s going to do (T. C. Boyle)

She took particular comfort in certain familiar sights and sounds that marked her day: the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the pale figures sprawled silent and motionless over their reading, the reassuring feel of her book cart as she wheeled it down the aisle, and the books themselves, symbols of order on their backs – young adulthood reduced to “YA,” mystery reduced to a tiny red skull

She took particular comfort in certain familiar sights and sounds that marked her day: the buzz of the fluorescent lights, the pale figures sprawled silent and motionless over their reading, the reassuring feel of her book cart as she wheeled it down the aisle, and the books themselves, symbols of order on their backs – young adulthood reduced to “YA,” mystery reduced to a tiny red skull. (T.E.D. Klein, The Ceremonies)