The Prompter Room

For Tuesday, April 23, 2019:


I am not just an optimist.  I am an opti-mystic who sees the world through the eyes of possibility.

Edie Weinstein, meme on Facebook (h/t SN)


The Prompter Room

For Friday, April 19, 2019:


If you want the moon, do not hide from the night.  If you want a rose, do not run from the thorns.  If you want love, do not hide from yourself.


The Prompter Room

For Tuesday, April 16, 2019:


From Constance Grady at Vox: ‘… The Hunchback of Notre Dame was written to celebrate a landmark on the brink of death, and instead the novel succeeded in resurrecting it. Perhaps it is possible for a similar rebirth to happen again today.’


… Great edifices, like great mountains, are the work of centuries. Art often undergoes a transformation while they are pending, pendent opera interrupta; they proceed quietly in accordance with the transformed art. The new art takes the monument where it finds it, incrusts itself there, assimilates it to itself, develops it according to its fancy, and finishes it if it can …

The service of religion once assured and provided for, architecture does what she pleases. Statues, stained glass, rose windows, arabesques, denticulations, capitals, bas-reliefs,—she combines all these imaginings according to the arrangement which best suits her. Hence, the prodigious exterior variety of these edifices, at whose foundation dwells so much order and unity. The trunk of a tree is immovable; the foliage is capricious.

Victor Hugo, Book Three, THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME (via Vox)





The Prompter Room

For Friday, April 12, 2019:


Ernest Hemingway was known for developing the Iceberg Theory, a story-telling technique in which the writer comes up with a detailed background of a character or a theme, but chooses not to reveal it explicitly.  That way, the extra information is communicated through the little actions made by the characters in the story, rather than stated outright. meme on Facebook (h/t RG)

The Prompter Room

For Friday, April 5, 2019:


… It’s hard, now, to be with someone else wholly, uninterruptedly, and it’s hard to be truly alone. The fine art of doing nothing in particular, also known as thinking, or musing, or introspection, or simply moments of being, was part of what happened when you walked from here to there, alone, or stared out the train window, or contemplated the road, but the new technologies have flooded those open spaces. Space for free thought is routinely regarded as a void and filled up with sounds and distractions.

Rebecca Solnit, ‘We’re Breaking Up: Non-Communication in the Silicon Age,’ THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF TROUBLE AND SPACIOUSNESS (h/t brainpickings)


The Prompter Room

For Tuesday, April 2, 2019:


Dear Reader,

We wouldn’t need books quite so much if everyone around us understood us well. But they don’t. Even those who love us get us wrong. They tell us who we are but miss things out. They claim to know what we need, but forget to ask us properly first. They can’t understand what we feel — and sometimes, we’re unable to tell them, because we don’t really understand it ourselves. That’s where books come in. They explain us to ourselves and to others, and make us feel less strange, less isolated and less alone. We might have lots of good friends, but even with the best friends in the world, there are things that no one quite gets. That’s the moment to turn to books. They are friends waiting for us any time we want them, and they will always speak honestly to us about what really matters. They are the perfect cure for loneliness. They can be our very closest friends.



Alain de Botton in A VELOCITY OF BEING: LETTERS TO A YOUNG READER, compiled by Maria Popova of


The Prompter Room

For Friday, March 29, 2019:


What others have called form has nothing to do with our form—I want to create my own and I can’t do anything else—if I stop to think of what others—authorities or the public—or anyone—would say of my form I’d not be able to do anything.

Georgia O’Keefe, in a letter to Sherwood Anderson


The Prompter Room

For Friday, March 22, 2019:


A piece of space-dust falls on your head once every day … With every breath, we inhale a bit of the story of our universe, our planet’s past and future, the smells and stories of the world around us, even the seeds of life.

Brassai (Hungarian photographer), CONVERSATIONS WITH PICASSO, 1964  (h/t