If illness didn’t kill you, you died of bad luck.
She was a woman, a traitor, and a killer. Males and females wanted her. But I was the only one who ever could have loved her.
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.
It was all right to be who he was, but others would probably think it was terrible. A couple of times in the past he'd reached this absolute zero of the truth, and without fear or bitterness he realiz...
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.
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.
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...
That world! These days it's all been erased and they've rolled it up like a scroll and put it away somewhere. Yes, I can touch it with my fingers. But where is it?
Since Marco Polo, he thought, this climate has defeated Western civilization.
Maybe, when you hear the name Beverly, you think of Beverly Hills--people wandering the streets with their heads shot off by money.
Like all men you have a religion - at least a way of looking at yourself and the universe both at once, which is all I'd hope a religion to be...
He got right down in the dark between heartbeats, and rested there. And then he saw that another one wasn't going to come. That's it. That's the last. He looked at the dark. I would like to take this...
Generally the closest I ever came to wondering about the meaning of it all was to consider that I must be the victim of a joke.
[The doctor] peeked into the trauma room and saw the situation: the clerk - that is, me - standing next to the orderly, Georgie, both of us on drugs, looking down at a patient with a knife sticking up...
What a pair of lungs!
The traveling salesmen fed me pills that made the lining of my veins feel scraped out, my jaw ached... I knew every raindrop by its name, I sensed everything before it happened. Like I knew a certain...
Talk into here. Talk into my bullet hole. Tell me I'm fine.
Sloth kept him in bed awhile. Restlessness drove him downstairs to the tiny court behind his kitchen, where the sun made more mist. Under its warmth everything gave off ghosts. They work from the bric...
She took my heat. Traded it to the devil for some bauble.
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...