There was our old life, in the apartment, in which we had time to finish most of the tasks we started and took long showers and remembered to water our plants. And there was our new life, in the hospi...
There is the humility of being a father to someone so powerful, as if he were only a narrow conduit for another, greater think.
There is only chance in this world, chance and physics. Anyway,
The walls could fall away, even the whole city, and the brightness of that feeling would not wane. The
The echoes of his footfalls ricochet off tall houses and rain back onto them, and he labors beneath her weight, and she is old enough to suspect that what he presents as quaint and welcoming might in...
Some people are weak in some ways, sir. Other in other ways
Smoke: her great-uncle says it is a suspension of particles, billions of drifting carbon molecules. Bits of living rooms, cafes, trees. People.
She turns her face toward his, and though she cannot see him, he feels he cannot bear her gaze. Won’t you come with me?
She has no memories of her mother but imagines her as white, a soundless brilliance.
Quem sabia que o amor poderia matar?
Nearly every species that has ever lived has gone extinct,
Marie-Laure says, I heard that the diamond is like a piece of light from the original world. Before it fell. A piece of light rained to earth from God.
Madame? Yes? What do I do? Just walk. She walks. Now there are cold round pebbles beneath her feet. Now crackling weeds. Now something smoother: wet, unwrinkled sand. She bends and spreads her fingers...
LeBlanc stands alone in her bedroom smelling a leaflet she cannot read. Sirens wail. She closes the shutters and relatches the window. Every second the airplanes draw closer; every second is a second...
It strikes Werner just then as wondrously futile to build splendid buildings, to make music, to sing songs, to print huge books full of colorful birds in the face of the seismic, engulfing indifferenc...
I always thought, or imagined, that there were these invisible lines trembling in our wake, outlining our trajectories through life, throbbing with electric energy. Lines that sometimes cross one othe...
Fog on the sea, fog in the streets, fog in the mind.
Everyone should behave as if he carries the real thing. The locksmith reties the stone inside the bag and slips it back into his rucksack.
Everybody, he is learning, likes to hear themselves talk. Hubris, like the oldest stories. They raise the antenna too high, broadcast for too many minutes, assume the world offers safety and rationali...
Every second, walking those two hundred meters, is like leaping into very cold water, in that first instant when the body goes into shock, and everything you are, everything you call your life, disint...