Nor Time, nor Place, nor Chance, nor Death can bow/my least desires unto the least remove
What are you doing?Nothing. Breaking and entering. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
One of the best and the most painful things about time traveling has been the opportunity to see my mother alive.
Why do you have a cigarette lighter in your glove compartment? her husband, Jack, asked her. I'm bored with knitting. I've taken up arson
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
We are walking down the street holding hands. There is a playground at the end of the block, and I run to the swings and I climb on and Henry takes the one next to me facing the opposite direction. An...
The Garden Under Snow Now the garden is under snow a blank page our footprints write onclare who was never minebut always belonged to herselfSleeping Beautya crystalline blanketthis is her springthis...
Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence?
Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other.
Running is many things to me: survival, calmness, euphoria, solitude. It is proof of my corporeal existence, my ability to control my movement through space if not time, and the obedience, however tem...
Right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
But I don't want to just believe it, I want it to be true.
Knowing the future is different from being told what I like.
Chicago has so much excellent architecture that they feel obliged to tear some of it down now and then and erect terrible buildings just to help us all appreciate the good stuff.
Now I wonder if it means that the future is a place, or like a place, that I could go to; that is go to in some way otherthan just getting older.
The apartment is a laboratory in which we conduct experiments, perform research on each other. We discover Henry hates it when I absentmindedly click my spoon against my teeth while reading the paper...
Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
That is what madness is, isn't it? All the wheels fly off the bus and things don't make sense any more. Or rather, they do, but it's not a kind of sense anyone else can understand.
When you live with a woman you learn something every day. So far I have learned that long hair will clog up the shower drain before you can say 'Liquid-Plumr';
The choices we’re working with here are a block universe, where past, present and future all coexist simultaneously and everything has already happened; chaos, where anything can happen and nothing ca...