The heart asks pleasure first; and then excuse from pain.
She talked back, but he didn't understand her raven language of harsh caws and soft croaks.
Praise means nothing to Mama, she doesn't believe it. Only criticism can flush her cheeks and catch her attention. If I were to say something disparaging she would remember it always.
Part of me wants to turn him into hamburger and part of me doesn't want to beat up somebody who's taped to a tree.
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.
Not because they’re dead. Though unattainability is always attractive.
Laufen bedeutet für mich vieles: Überleben, Ruhe, Euphorie, Einsamkeit. Es ist der Beweis meiner körperlichen Existenz und der Fähigkeit, dass ich meine Bewegung durch den Raum, wenn auch nicht in der...
It's living up to being happy that's the most difficult part.
It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.
I wish for a moment that time would lift me out of this day, and into some more benign one. But then I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness; dead people need us to remember them, even if it ea...
I wanted someone to love who would stay: stay and be there, always.
I think play must have been invented so we wouldn't go mad thinking about certain things.
He had never realized, while Elspeth was alive, the extent to which a thing had not completely happened until he told her about it.
Have you ever found your heart's desire and then lost it? I had seen myself, a portrait of myself as a reader. My childhood: days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew, forbidden books read secreti...
Everything is still out there: the rooftops and chimneys, the graffiti, the office towers and the cyclists; soon there will be sheep and that immense sky the keep out in the countryside... Once I thou...
Clare, I want to tell you, again, I love you. Our love has been the thread through the labyrinth, the net under the high-wire walker, the only real thing in this strange life of mine that I could ever...
Clare is silent. Her pragmatism and her romantic feelings about Jesus and Mary are, at thirteen, almost equally balanced. A year ago she would have said God without hesitation. In ten years she will v...
Turning each page is like making a bed, an enormous expanse of paper slowly rises up and over.
The space that I can call mine, that isn't full of Henry, is so small that my ideas have become small.
Sister Carmelita says animals don't have soulsOf course animals have souls, where did she get that idea?She said the Pope says. The Pope's an old meanie. Animals have much nicer souls than we do. They...