“It was a true conversation. About whether our ancestors had more important lives than we do. And how they’ve managed to trick us, if they did not. Frida felt it helped them not to put anything in writing. The people at Teotihuacan had no written language, according to Dr. Gamio. “So we can’t read their diaries,” she pointed out, “or the angry letters they sent their unfaithful lovers. They died without telling us their complaints.”
She is right about that. No regrets or petty jalousies. Only stone gods and magnificent buildings. We only get to see their perfect architecture, not their imperfect lives. But it’s a strange point to argue for an artist whose paintings are rants and confessions. Without regrets and jalousies, she would have blank canvas.” (199)
“So he was right about something alive in the crate, wanting out. Mrs. Kahlo did that for him. He’d about given up on life as a whole, going away on a train to the next world. If he didn’t take one other thing, she wanted him carrying his words.” (274)
“And this you have in spades, my friend. You are loved by the multitudes. Ladies and gents standing in line down the block, waiting for your every word.”
Their opinion of me is approximately the same as for a talking pony.
Frida said that. “Yes, I’m very lucky. Employed by the American imagination, as you put it.” (421)
the rest: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&bID=530888950
this is the first time i’ve ever missed a book when i finished reading it…