Tell the story, gather the events, repeat them. Pattern is a matter of upkeep. Otherwise the weave relaxes back to threads picked up by birds to make their nests. Repeat, or the story will fall and al...
As for sin. I honestly can't believe God is so bored or so lecherous as to care how close my body and its various parts get to someone else's various parts.
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...
Be strong enough to carry the burden of sin that goes with doing the right thing.
Between a mother’s eyes and her son’s face, there is not air. There is something invisible and invincible. Even though—or because—he will go out into the world, she will never lose her passion to prot...
She rejoins the crowd and watches with her friends, but she feels like an emptied glass - that crestfallen feeling of walking out from a movie theatre in the middle of the day, out from the intimate m...
Somewhere inside his head he's still all there, but moved into a cramped rear apartment overlooking the old brain.
You're not bad ... you're just lost.I know exactly where I am. That doesn't mean you're not lost.
My first advantage: I have everything. My second advantage: this is just another island. My third advantage: I am bigger than it all.
Doch die Erinnerung spielt uns Streiche. Erinnern iat ein anderes Wort für Erfinden, und nichts ist unzuverlässiger.
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.
The world should not be organized to require heroines, and when one is required but fails to appear we should not judge. We should just say, poor Camille, she turned into a bitch the way most people w...
Frances is a diamond, passed from filthy paw to paw but never diminished. The men who handle her can leave no mark because her worth is far above them. (page 361)
Frances is a diamond, passed from filthy paw to paw but never diminished. The men who handle her can leave no mark because her worth is far above them. Hard, helpless, buried. You can hear it in her v...
Frances is a sealed letter. It doesn't matter where she's been or who's pawed her, no one gets to handle the contents no matter how grimy the envelope. And it's for sure no one's going to be able to s...
Frances is feeling a familiar yet unnameably old feeling. One she hadn't known was ever hers to forget. Happiness.
Frances learns something in this moment that will allow her to survive and function for the rest of her life. She finds out that one thing can look like another. That the facts of a situation don't ne...
Freedom consists of being insulated from the envy and ignorance of the unimportant people who temporarily surround her.
Perhaps God dropped them on their heads before they were born.
...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.
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