Google “brooklyn writer” and you’ll get, Did you mean: the future of literature as we know it?
Colson WhiteheadMots clés writers funny awesome brooklyn
I hate Brooklyn.
Cassandra ClareMots clés hate new-york-city brooklyn jace-wayland mortal-instruments
I had to say it gave me a warm feeling to picture Meredith Winslow spending twenty years or so in an ill fitting orange jumpsuit, cozying up to a great big girl named Beulah
Kate CarlisleMots clés funny brooklyn kate-carlisle
He'd once explained that when he was a boy his very proper parents had forbidden him and his brothers to curse in the house so 'feather buckets' was the young boys coded way of saying 'f*ck it
Kate CarlisleMots clés funny brooklyn kate-carlisle
Men were good for one thing only. Killing spiders. Other than that, I was on my own. It was sad though. Where was the chivalry of yesteryear?
Kate CarlisleMots clés funny brooklyn kate-carlisle
Everyone who does not live in Berlin lives in Brooklyn now.
Don DeLilloMots clés brooklyn berlin robert-mccrum point-omega
As a teenager in Brooklyn Quentin had often imagined himself engaged in martial heroics, but after this he knew, as a cold immutable fact, that he would do anything necessary, sacrificing whatever or whomever he had to, to avoid risking exposure to physical violence. Shame never came into it. He embraced his new identity as a coward. He would run in the other direction. He would lie down and cry and put his arms over his head or play dead. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would do it and be glad.
Lev GrossmanMots clés fear cowardice brooklyn running-away martial-heroics physical-violence playing-dead quentin-coldwater
Apparently Brooklyn needn't always push itself to be something else, something conscious and anxious, something pointed toward Manhattan.... Brooklyn might sometimes also be pleased, as here on Flatbush, to be its grubby, enduring self.
Jonathan LethemMots clés self brooklyn enduring grubby
The most special times in a person's life are not meant to last forever. They're like bubbles rising from a plastic ring dipped into a soapy solution. The soap bubbles rise, with the sun flashing brilliant colors, then bursts into a showery memory mist.
Julius JE ThompsonMots clés style atlanta brooklyn ghost brownstone philly profille
It happened every single day in Brooklyn: awaken to fresh glory, fall asleep to blight and ruin.
Kate ChristensenMots clés brooklyn city kate-christensen the-astral
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