If he fell, well, he fell—but if he survived he would become a monument, not carved in stone or encased in brass, but one of those New York monuments that made you say: Can you believe it? With an exp...
When I sat down beside them, their silence was lined with tenderness. We have to admire the world for not ending on us.
The children looked like remnants of themselves. Spectral. Some were naked to the waist.Many of them had sores on their faces. None had shoes. He could see the structures of them through their skin. T...
And when you go around in circles, brother, the world is very big, but if you plow straight ahead it’s small enough.
Bushmills was a Protestant whiskey. Jameson for Catholics.
And there are moments that I would like to know what might have happened if it hadn't happened, and why it happened the way it did, and what it might have taken to prevent it from happening.
We have all heard of these things before. The love letter arriving as the teacup falls. The guitar striking up as the last breath sounds out. I don't attribute it to God or to sentiment. Perhaps it's...
They entered the wild country. Broken fences. Ruined castles. Stretches of bogland. Wooded headlands. Turfsmoke rose from cabins, thin and mean. On the muddy paths, they glimpsed moving rags. The rags...
Well, I'd say fuck too, if I were me. I'd say it backward and forward and around the block, fuck this and fuck that and fuck it all at once, twice, three times.
She lasted three months, then passed on a September day when everything seemed split open with sunlight.
I could tell from Anna's face that she had already told him about dancing in Saint Petersburg and that the memory weighed on her heavily. What monstrous things, our pasts, especially when they have be...
همهٔ مردها میخواهند روسپیها را نجات بدهند. حقیقتی انکارناپذیر است. از من میپرسی این خودش بیماری است.
She was tall, exotic, so very young she seemed to flutter.
He says to us something about being hungry and how he met his wife when he was hungry and then they crossed some border together into Austria and then she died.
The further away we got from 9/11, the more I wanted to find some way to recover. I wanted to talk about the more anonymous corners of the city, because I think it's very important that not all of tha...
Literature can remind us that not all life is already written down: there are still so many stories to be told.
It's strange but as I grow older, I find myself developing more optimism. I keep inching toward the point where I believe that it's more difficult to have hope than it is to embrace cynicism. In the d...
و کسی چه میداند در پس یک زندگی، زندگی دیگری در جریان است.
There is always room for at least two truths.
The thing about love is that we come alive in bodies not our own.