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...
Somewhere inside his head he's still all there, but moved into a cramped rear apartment overlooking the old brain.
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...
Teresa blames herself for believing that she was indispensable to Mahmoud. Pride goeth before a fall.
The MacKinnons were always new, always almost just like everyone else. Always next door to normal. It was like growing up in the witness protection program without changing your name.
The moon may drive men mad but it can calm a savage girl, for it is cool, precise, it is lucid.
The thief you must fear the most is not the one who steals mere things.
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...
Then she kissed me in that way that makes me hate time.
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.
There is love, there is music, there is no limit, there is work, there is the precious sense that this is the hour of grace when all things gather and distill to create the rest of my life. I don't be...
They are so young, they forget that the world is not as in love with them as they are.
To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain.
Tues. April 16 - Coney Island! Ate only pink things. Threw up. It was worth it.
Under a smoky streetlamp I stood face to face with my beloved and pricked my fingers against the diamond studs of her immaculate shirt front. Being tall, she slipped her hands naturally about my hips...
Well, what was wrong with it?We don't know, says James.That's a stupid rotten answer.Life is sometimes rotten and stupid.
What is the good of believing fervently in God if you wind up hating Him?
When will she discover that I am from a lesser race of immortals? But the high deities have always needed pixies to persuade them down to earth. When she no longer needs an intermediary, will she stil...
Who is that in the glass? She sees herself for the first time. She doesn't require softlight, not at her age, not with her looks, so the effect of three candles is excessivelyravishing. Her hair spark...
Who's the Devil?Frances crouches down as if she were talking to Trixie. That's something I'll never tell you, Lily, no matter how old you get to be, because the Devil is shy. It makes him angry when s...
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