I don't know where to begin. He paused, and took a drink. Do you remember last fall, in Julian's class, when we studied what Plato calls telestic madness? Bakcheia? Dionysiac frenzy? Yes,I said rather...
I could do what I had to. I’d done it before: gone blank, pushed forward.
I am not unused to being confronted with my ow lies, but those of others never fail to throw me for a loop.
I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and...
How had I fetched up into this strange new life, where drunk foreigners shouted around me in the night, and all my clothes were dirty, and nobody loved me?
How Robin would have loved this!’ the aunts used to say fondly. 'How Robin would have laughed!’ In truth, Robin had been a giddy, fickle child - somber at odd moments, practically hysterical at others...
Hordes of people on the street, lighted Christmas trees sparkling high on penthouse balconies and complacent Christmas music floating out of shops, and weaving in and out of crowds I had a strange fee...
Her eyes--lined with black makeup--stared blankly at the ceiling; and her tan was obviously sprayed on since her skin had a healthy apricot glow even though the top of her head was missing.
He was the kind of man people liked to entrust with their sadnesses.
For a moment I was disoriented, seized by panic; could a ghost embody itself through wavelengths, electronic dots, a picture tube? What are the dead, anyway, but waves and energy? Light shining from a...
Flapping crows. Shiny beetles crawling in the undergrowth. A patch of sky, frozen in a cloudy retina, reflected in a puddle on the ground. Yoo-hoo. Being and nothingness.
Every new event - everything I did for the rest of my life - would only separate us more and more: days she was n longer a part of, an ever-growing distance between us. Every single day for the rest o...
Even on the highest levels it was smoke and mirrors; everyone was furnishing a stage set.
Estamos tan acostumbrados a disfrazarnos para los demás que al final nos disfrazamos para nosotros mismos. FRANÇOIS DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD
Esas imágenes que te llegan al corazón y lo abren como una flor, imágenes que se abren a una belleza tan grande que puedes pasarte toda la vida buscando sin encontrarla.
Es terrible aprender de niño que uno es algo separado del resto del mundo, que nada ni nadie sufre con nosotros cuando nos escaldamos la lengua o nos hacemos un rasguño en una rodilla, que nuestros ma...
Es peligroso ignorar la existencia de lo irracional. Cuanto más cultivada es una persona, cuanto más inteligente y más reprimida, más necesita algún medio de canalizar los impulsos primitivos que tant...
Did she ever have the sense of observing herself from afar, as I often did, as if the explosion had knocked my body and my soul into two separate entities that remained about six feet apart from one a...
Demands? said Andy. She makes it sound as if you’re asking for ten million in unmarked notes.
Death is the mother of beauty, said Henry. And what is beauty? Terror. Well said, said Julian. Beauty is rarely soft or consolatory. Quite the contrary. Genuine beauty is always quite alarming.