That woman can sell water to a drowning man.
Tenemos el arte para no morir de la verdad. NIETZSCHE
Still with real greatness, there’s a jolt at the end of the wire. It doesn’t matter how often you grab hold of the line, or how many people have grabbed hold of it before you. It’s the same line. Fall...
Sometimes, in the evenings, a damp, gritty wind blew in the windows from Park Avenue, just as the rush hour traffic was thinning and the city was emptying for the night; it was rainy, trees leafing ou...
Sometimes when I saw him at a distance – fists in pockets, whistling, bobbing along with his springy old walk – I would have a strong pang of affection mixed with regret. I forgave him, a hundred time...
Something strangled them as they grew older, made them doubt their own powers—laziness? Habit? Their grip slackened; they stopped fighting and resigned themselves to what happened. That’s Life. That’s...
Silence. Her eyes on mine. But unlike Kitsey—who was always at least partly somewhere else, who loathed serious talk, who at a similar turn would be looking around for the waitress or making whatever...
She was a masterpeace of composure; nothing ever ruffled her or made her upset, and though she was not beatiful her calmness had the magnetic pull of beauty – a stillness so powerful that the molecule...
She told me she loved him. Well, girls always love assholes, said Platt, not bothering to dispute this. Haven’t you noticed?
Pur: that one word contains for me the secret, the bright, terrible clarity of ancient Greek. How can I make you see it, this strange harsh light which pervades Homer’s landscapes and illumines the di...
Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one w...
Once, over dinner, Henry was quite startled to learn from me than men had walked on the moon. No, he said, putting down his fork. It’s true, chorused the rest, who had somehow managed to pick this up...
Non possiamo scegliere cosa vogliamo e cosa non vogliamo e questa è la verità nuda e cruda. Non possiamo scappare da ciò che siamo. […]E per quanto mi piacerebbe credere che ci sia una verità dietro l...
No. Americans just persecute smaller countries that believe different from them.
No, he’s asleep. Where’s my mother? Is
Maybe sometimes—the wrong way is the right way? You can take the wrong path and it still comes out where you want to be? Or, spin it another way, sometimes you can do everything wrong and it still tur...
Lyra, Cassiopeia the queen, whiplash Scorpius with the twin stings in his tail, all the friendly childhood patterns that had twinkled me to sleep from the glow-in-the-dark planetarium stars on my bedr...
Las cosas nunca son lo que parecen..., todo bueno o todo malo. Sería mucho más fácil si lo fueran.
I— At her tone, at once intimate and formal, a terrible sadness came over me, and when we looked at each other it seemed that the whole past was redefined and brought into focus by this moment, clear...
It’s a terrible thing, what we did, said Francis abruptly. I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It’s a shame. I feel bad about it.