Talk into here. Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine.
Now we had a stupid silence, the kind that always descends on people who are half in the bag.
I knew every raindrop by its name.
Who said it? – probably Confucius – I can’t beat a sculpture from a stone with a sledgehammer; I can’t free the soul of man by violence. Peace was here, peace was now. Peace promised in any other time...
She had nothing in this world but her two hands and her crazy love for Jesus, who seemed, for his part, never to have heard of her.
Its always been my tendency to lie to doctors, as if good health consisted only of the ability to fool them.
It was raining. Gigantic ferns leaned over us. The forest drifted down a hill. I could hear a creek rushing down among rocks. And you, you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you.
I knew that, but he didn’t, and therefore I looked down into the great pity of a person’s life on this earth. I don’t mean that we all end up dead, that’s not the great pity. I mean that he couldn’t t...
Her zealous hope of Heaven made it hell there.
We live in the post-trash, man. It'll be a real short eon. Down in the ectoplasmic circuitry where humanity's leaders are all linked up unconsciously with each other and with the masses, man, there's...
The feeling that he was afraid of me was invigorating.
Pointless labor, useless trash, but for the bureaucrat nothing's trash until he affronts his soul by throwing it out.
It felt like the moment before the Savior comes. And the Savior did come, but we had to wait a long time.
He was so entranced, he was so charmed, so captivated-rolled out flat, dreamed into, shone upon-that when she said his name, English started to live.
And yet we were always being found innocent for ridiculous reasons.
The jolt of fear had burned all the red out of my blood.
Now he slept soundly through the nights, and often he dreamed of trains, and often of one particular train: He was on it; he could smell the coal smoke; a world went by. And then he was standing in th...
Love and violence-not to conquer one with the other but to live with both, that's what I've learned. Each pulling me a different way. If I relax my struggles they don't tear me in two, but lift me up.
Write naked. That means to write what you would never say.
What can be said about those fields? There were blackbirds circling above their own shadows, and beneath them the cows stood around smelling one another’s butts.