Quotes About Skylights

The (paradoxical?) correlative of Hegelian ideology is a realist reading of scientific texts: by way of the concept, the content shows through. We read as if words were holes in the page through which reality surfaces; or again, skylights through which the real process can be studied in a kind of speculative voyeurism.

The bag was a hybrid I had picked up at a store called Suitcase City while I was plotting my comeback. [...] It had a logo on it -- a mountain ridgeline with the words Suitcase City printed across it like the Hollywood sign. Above it, skylights swept the horizon, completing the dream image of desire and hope. I think that logo was the real reason I liked the bag. Because I knew Suitcase City wasn't a store. It was a place. It was Los Angeles.

This dumb show of privilege—the quartet, the stylized flowers of stained glass, the illumination of the skylights. Yet it was beautiful. Did beauty have to be shameful? I wished there was someone I could ask.

I did not want windows, only skylights. I chose my painting wall as it has the best morning light.

The spatter of raindrops made me look down at the floor. It was mosaic, a huge mosaic, made up of trillions of tiled fragments. I had heard that only if you climbed up the dome to the very top, and peered in through the skylights at the summit, could you perceive the mosaic image in full and understand what it depicted. This felt, to me, like an adequate metaphor for my life.

Maybe this was the meaning of life: to live in the darkness of Plato's cave and stare endlessly into the void, but to make pancakes and watch Woody Allen movies and look at the sun coming through the skylights. Those were the comforts of not having true knowledge of the world, but of being a part of it and being amazed by it.