There are some stories you can't hear enough. They are the same every time you hear them. But you are not. That's one reliable way of understanding time.
Perhaps God dropped them on their heads before they were born.
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...
He was neither frightened nor skeptical, but felt himself drawn in with an involuntaryfaith--which is what faith is
Be strong enough to carry the burden of sin that goes with doing the right thing.
You're not bad ... you're just lost.I know exactly where I am. That doesn't mean you're not lost.
Writing. Opening a vein in your wrist with a spoon.
She follows the putrid cloud downstairs and
Lies like that are not a sin, they are a sacrifice.
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.
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...
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...
He felt, before he learned anything about where she came from, that the photographhad made them one.
For once, Frances is stripped of irony. She is in the presence of something bigger--namely Herself. Or at least the self implied by her new body. This is how the Blessed Virgin visits us. She inhabits...
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...
As time went by, it mattered less and less that in 1969 a rocket went from Florida to the moon and men walked there. Good men. People's dads. Those were only events, scattered in time. Draw them close...
A small grazing gesture ignites the need for closer, and breaks the surface of the water, never in you enough, gulping air, never contain you enough, on dry land now, never hold you enough, the desert...
Teresa blames herself for believing that she was indispensable to Mahmoud. Pride goeth before a fall.
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.
Memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.