Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families,...
Come, Adam, a wise man does not step betwixt the beast & his meat.
But no, we cross, crisscross, and recross our old tracks like figure skaters.
Believe nothing till it’s officially denied.
Ayrs let long moments fall away. ‘You’re young, Frobisher, you’re rich, you’ve got a brain, and by all accounts you’re not wholly repugnant. I’m not sure why you stay on here.’……Couldn’t say if Ayrs f...
Ay, TC, ¿por qué te entregaste a los libros? ¡Qué rollo de oficio, qué auténtico pestiño! Las autobiografías ya de por sí son infumables, ¡pero anda que las novelitas! Héroe emprende viaje, forastero...
At odd moments she may fret over a blank in her memory, but soon a Pied Piper thought will come dancing along and her untrained mind will follow...
Another war is always coming, Robert. They are never properly extinguished. What sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. The threat of violence, the fear of violence, or actual v...
Another example of their hatefulness while my dander’s up: in order to get themselves off the hook of sometimes liking uncool things, they refer to them as ‘guilty pleasures’, which is a ridiculous ex...
An idler and a sluggard are as different as a gourmand and a glutton.
Ambassadors are idiots who possess only one skill: outkowtowing one another at official functions.
All the supernatural yarns need a realist explanation and a supernatural one.
Adverbs are cholesterol in the veins of prose. Halve your adverbs and your prose pumps twice as well.
Access to memories does not guarantee access to truth.
A society where you’re not allowed to blow your own trumpet is so much more nuanced, sophisticated and interesting than the grim world of literalism that’s being ushered in.
A life spent shaping a world I want Jackson to inherit, not one I fear Jackson shall inherit, this strikes me as a life worth the living.
A dragonfly arrives and leaves like a change of mind.
A classical LP was playing...... Jealous and sweet, this music was, sobbing and gorgeous, muddy and crystal.But if the right words existed the music wouldn't need to.
A blue jay swoops onto a fungus-ruffled tree-stump by Hershey’s grave, emits a volley of harsh jeers, then a breathy trill.
A bird hopped onto the foaming lilac outside. Its throat quivered; notes rose and fell out. As long as it kept singing and I kept staring, I told myself, I wouldn't start crying.