You're not bad ... you're just lost.I know exactly where I am. That doesn't mean you're not lost.
It's because a real and beautiful voice delicately rends the chest, discovered the heart, and holds it beating against a stainless edge until you long to be pierced utterly. For the voice is everythin...
Perhaps God dropped them on their heads before they were born.
Then she kissed me in that way that makes me hate time.
He was neither frightened nor skeptical, but felt himself drawn in with an involuntaryfaith--which is what faith is
She's no lady. Her songs are all unbelievably unhappy or lewd. It's called Blues. She sings about sore feet, sexual relations, baked goods, killing your lover, being broke, men called Daddy, women who...
James could do all this because he had made a bargain with himself: he wouldn't try to get killed, nor would he try to survive. He could do all this because he felt terribly sorry for the men he rescu...
It was a moment of equal parts anxiety and awe, like the striking of a wide seam ofgold. The prospector sinks to his knees--he's only been looking for coal. At a gush ofoil he'd hoot, baptize himself...
Lily has never gotton used to being alone. They turn in the water and turn again, then Ambrose lifts her above the surface once more and the creek rains down from her. He lays her gently on her back a...
One heck of a middle C today. Felt like I was gorging on a chocolate eclair. Kaiser none too pleased - after all, I'm a soprano. Sopranos don't sing in chocolate.
Teresa blames herself for believing that she was indispensable to Mahmoud. Pride goeth before a fall.
Memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.
...dread invades the living room, finds her on the couch, presses on her, gets inside her where it swiftly grows bigger than she is until she is inside it, looking out from a rind of shadow.
Jetzt bleibt ihm nur noch er Tod, doch der lässt auf sich warten, weil Mahmoud ein Gewohnheitstier ist und sich daran ewöhnt hat, am Leben zu sein.
Kathleen is truly and utterly and completely Kathleen in New York. That's what the city does for you if it's meant for you.
Writing. Opening a vein in your wrist with a spoon.
It had changed to hate. The hate that she prayed for Jesus to take away. But it was also part of what had kept her going so how could she do without it now? That kind of hate is a species of animated...
Tues. April 16 - Coney Island! Ate only pink things. Threw up. It was worth it.
To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain.
Dark and sweet, the elixir of love is in her mouth. The more I drink, the more I remember all the things we've never done. I was a ghost until I touched you. Never swallowed mortal food until I tasted...
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