I won't ever leave you, even though you're always leaving me.
Mom had just gotten back from Sydney, and she had brought me an immense, surpassingly blue butterfly, Papilio ulysses, mounted in a frame filled with cotton. I would hold it close to my face, so close...
My head is throbbing. I need coffee. Leaving the marbled papers in a state of controlled chaos, I walk through the office and past the page's desk in the Reading Room. I am halted by Isabelle's voice...
Of course.. some people, me included, believe that punk is just the most recent manifestation of this, this spirit, this feeling, you know, that things aren't right and that in fact things are so wron...
Outside it's a perfect spring night. We stand on the sidewalk in front of our apartment building, and Henry takes my hand, and I look at him, and I raise our joined hands and Henry twirls me around an...
Ovo je jedna od onih zimskih večeri kada se čini da hladnoća svakog pojedinog predmeta usporava vrijeme poput uskog srednjeg dijela pjščanog sata kroz koji protječe samo vrijeme, ali polako, polako.
Percibo una sola tarde como si fuera un día entero; un viaje en el metro puede suponer una travesía épica. Hoy es interminable. He pasado casi todo el día sin pensar [...], o al menos sin pensar demas...
Tchotchka. Amorta. Heart of my heart. Speak to me.
That's Henry. When he makes you moan and cry, don't say nobody never told you
The compelling thing about making art—or making anything, I suppose—is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances. Circe, Nim...
The engagement ring is an emerald, and the dim light from the window is refracted green and white in it. The rings are silver, and they need cleaning. They need wearing, and I know just the girl to we...
The kissed surprised him because it had been so long since he'd kissed anyone but Elspeth. It surprised Valentina because she had hardly ever kissed anyone that way - to her, kissing had always been m...
There was only the cemetery itself, spread out in the moonlight like a soft grey hallucination, a stony wilderness of Victorian melancholy.
Think for a minute, darling: in fairy tales it's always the children who have the fine adventures. The mothers have to stay at home and wait for the children to fly in the window.
… dead people need us to remember them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say until it is as meaningless as air.
There is a noticeable strain. It is as though somewhere, in one of the more remote rooms of the house, a cease-fire has been signed, and now all the parties are endeavoring to honor it, at least until...
CLARE: The library is cool and smells like carpet cleaner, although all I can see is marble.
Clare snores, quiet animal snores that feel like bulldozers running through my head. I want my own bed, in my own apartment. Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is w...
When we met I was wrecked, blasted, and damned, and I am slowly pulling myself together because I can see that you are a human being and I would like to be one, too.
[...] la sensación de que las cosas no marchan bien y de que, de hecho, todo funciona tan mal que lo único que podemos hacer es decir: 'Jódete', una y otra vez, sin parar, gritándolo a pleno pulmón, h...
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