He was asking for memories, too young himself to know that memories were only memories of memories.
He somehow saw that to her being drunk had its whole long sentimental history, whereas to him it was a freakish novelty.
My months in the Scrubs were a kind of desert in time: beyond their strict and ascetic routines they were featureless, and it is hard in retrospect to know what one did on any day or even in any month...
The music expressed life and explained it and left you having to ask again.
Like the roses and begonias they seemed to take and hold the richly filtered evening light.
There was the noise itself, which he thought of vaguely as the noise of classical music, sameish and rhetorical, full of feelings people surely never had
The pursuit of love seemed to need the cultivation of indifference.
All families are silly in their own way.
And going into the showers I saw a suntanned young lad in pale blue trunks that I rather liked the look of.
But he felt the relief of being alone as well...the forgotten solitude which measures and verifies the strength of an affair, and which, being temporary, is a kind of pleasure.
On the stairs he was crying so much he hardly saw where he was going - not a mad boo-hoo but wailing sheets of tears, shaken into funny groans by the bump of each step as he hurried down.
I was applying myself to the subtler connoisseurship of the out-of-season, days without warmth and nights without encounters, empty pleasure-grounds and the violence of the tides.
In a house where he knew all the carpets as territories, castles, jumping squares, there was this other room with a carpet he had never jumped on.
He seemed to fade pretty quickly. He found himself yearning to know of their affairs, their successes, the novels and the new ideas that the few who remembered him might say he never knew, he never li...
She didn’t know what Senta was saying, beyond the recurrent sounding of the word Mann, but she sensed the presence of passionate love, and felt the air of legend, which had a natural hold on her.
Hello, Badger,’ said Nick, still self-conscious at teasing a virtual stranger about the yellow-grey stripe in his dark hair, at having to enrol in the family cult of Badger as a character, but finding...
There are chaps who don’t care for them, you know. Simply can’t abide them. Can’t stand the sight of them, their titties and their big sit-upons,
They had kissed the first time they did coke together, their first kiss, Wani’s mouth sour with wine, his tongue darting, his eyes timidly closed. Each time after that was a re-enactment of a thrillin...
When Senta started singing it was spellbinding—Daphne said this word to herself with a further shiver of pleasure.
The seat I had taken was marked for the use of the elderly and handicapped, but had another claimant come, a figure like Charles, for instance, I would have been prepared to leave the train, when my s...
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