When you come into a rich man's house, the only place to split is in his face.
When a great truth gets abroad in the world, no power on earth can imprison it, or prescribe its limits, or suppress it.
We return to the lives of those who have gone before us, a perplexing mobius strip, until we come home, eventually, to ourselves.
They bobbed back and forth, little Halloween apples.
The point of flight. To get rid of oneself. That was reason enough to fly.
She was tired of everyone wanting to go to heaven, nobody wanting to die. The only thing worth grieving over, she said, was that sometimes there was more beauty in this life than the world could bear.
She expected no judgement and wanted no pity.
Mine is the apartment that receives all noises, even from the basement below. For one hundred and ten dollars a month, I feel as if I live inside a radio.
It was as if they wanted to take their older bodies and put their younger hearts inside.
Literature can stop my heart and execute me for a moment, allow me to become someone else.
You soon find out how loud the silence really is. everything unsaid leads eventually to what is said.
You are a dancer for only a part of your life. The rest of the time you are walking around, thinking about it!
With all respects to heaven, I like it here.
What was life anyway? An accumulation of small shelves if incident. Stacked at odd angles to each other.
We seldom know what echo our actions will find, but our stories will most certainly outlast us.
We could not have found peace unless the desire for it was already here.
There was something in the music of the accent that Douglass liked: it was as if the Cork people put long lazy hammocks in their sentences.
The quiet lines matter as much as the noisy ones.
The Irish were poor, but not enslaved. He had come here to hack away at the ropes that held American slavery in place. Sometimes it withered him just to keep his mind steady. He was aware that the ess...
Once we had filled each other with desire, not remembrance.