Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness Quotes

“Solvitur ambulando, St. Augustine said. It is solved by walking.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“The Armenian alphabet is shredded lace--squiggly, feathery and mysterious. More elongated than Arabic, more elegant than Cyrillic.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“What would answers offer and--more importantly--what might they take away?”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“When we sing, I am one of many, and the individual me evaporates. I am one of 23 university choir members. Not a professor. Not an American. Not a 46-year-old in the midst of twentysomethings. Not a woman trying to outpace the aspects of self she has yet to make oeace with. I am simply what we all are--another voice, a set of lungs, some vocal chords and someone who finds joy and comfort in singing. But when the music stops, so does the we. The union dissolves. The silence transforms first person plural into first person singular.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“Gjerji raises his hand. In English he says, "I like to tell in the words of a great American philosopher what freedom is."
"Say it in your language to your peers," I urge.
Gyerji makes his statement. The class grows silent and thoughtful; there is much nodding. Twain perhaps? Emerson? Diana sidles up and whispers in my ear. "He says to them that freedom is a word when nothing is anymore able to be losed."
Janis Joplin, de-syntaxed.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“He gave me a gift, a surprise. It was my first present in this place so far from home.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“Rebellion without reprisal is one of democracy's perks, right?”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“[C]apitalism--democracy's sidekick”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness

“In one corner of the square is a manger scene with two live sheep, a bed of hay, a couple of cows. The baby Jesus is a brown-faced doll lying in his crib, but Mary and Joseph are real and dressed in period garb. Joseph hoists a staff, Mary sports her virginal blue robes. As I walked by the other day, Joseph balanced on the crib, light bulb in hand, reaching toward an electrical socket. Mary, I guess, was taking a break. She sat on the edge of the crib. Her blue robes were hiked high enough to reveal Doc Marten boots beneath. She sipped a can of Coke and smoked.”
― Laura Kelly, Dispatches from the Republic of Otherness