For nearly sixty years I have eavesdropped with impunity on the lives of people who do not exist. I have peeped shamelessly into hearts and bathroom closets. I have leaned over shoulders to follow the...
For it looked as if the walls were simply dissolving in the rain; those stones still standing, pale and insubstantial as rice paper, seemed ready to melt away under my very eyes if I just stood there...
Fate, at first so amenable, so reasonable, so open to negotiation, ends up by exacting a cruel revenge for happiness.
Families are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating.
Even the furniture made the most of the lack of supervision to move about.
Cuando el miedo y el frío hacen de ti una estatua en tu propia cama, no ansíes que la Verdad pura y dura acuda en tu auxilio. Lo que necesitas es el mullido consuelo de un relato. La protección balsám...
Aurelius Alphonse Love.
As we drove into Harrow-gate, the atmosphere in the car was heavy with Miss Winter’s oppressive silence.
And yet I cannot shake off my misgivings. Even now I can picture her face—so innocent in appearance, so distressed at being accused—and I am forced to wonder, is there some additional factor at play h...
And there is more: what we see on a map is only the half of it. A river no more begins at its source than a story begins with the first page. Take Trewsbury Mead, for instance. That photograph, do you...
Along the borders of this world lie others. There are places you can cross. This is one such place.
A few paces behind, I followed him.
Ten years of marriage is usually enough to cure marital affection, but Angelfield was an odd fellow, and there it was.
She could not be less than seventy-three or -four, and to judge by her appearance, altered though it was by illness and makeup, she could be no more than eighty.
Remember pondering for a long time over a dish of scrambled egg. What did it mean? It could mean anything. I ate a few mouthfuls and pushed the plate away. In this long, undifferentiated lapse of time...
On a summer day winter always seems like something you have dreamt or heard spoken of and not a thing you have lived.
Myself, I found that my thoughts had been rearranged in my absence.
Made
Endings that are muted, but which echo longer in the memory than louder, more explosive denouements.
Earl, his mother a black servant girl—had brought