Sarah Vowell Quotes
Standing There At Powell's Grave, Telling My Nephew About A Buried Skull, I Realize How Much Of Our Relationship Revolves Around Body Parts And Severed Heads. Once Owen Learned To Walk, We Started Playing A Game I Call Frankenstein, In Which I Am Frankenstein's Monster And I Chase Him Around Trying To Harvest His Organs And Appendages Because My Master Is Building Another Boy. "Frankenstein Needs Your Spleen," I Yell, Aping The Voice Of An Announcer At A Monster Truck Rally. "Give Me Your Spleen!" Which Is Why The Seemingly Gross Book I Gave Him For His Birthday, A Collection Of Poetry For Children Called The Blood-Hungry Spleen Was Actually A Sentimental Choice, Even Though My Sister Tells Me It Didn't Go Over So Well When He Brought It To Preschool.
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