Those times are over and gone, and good-riddance to them, too. We were hopelessly high-spirited. Now we're the thick-waisted generation, dragging along our children behind us and carrying our parents...
They had ganged up on her, in the claustrophobic, loving way of families, and she wanted no more of it.
The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.
She added, perhaps to herself, You have to become old and ugly before anyone listens to you, and then they don't, because you're ugly and old.
Será que o diabo já se esforçou para ser bom de novo ou, se fizer isso, não é um demônio?
Quanto mais civilizados nos tornamos, mais horrendas são as nossas diversões.
Noon is a disguise of whiteness put on by the eternal Night behind it.
Mostly his mind wandered. But it didn’t have anywhere special to wander to.
It’s the place of the story, beginning here, in the meadow of late summer flowers, thriving before the Atlantic storms drive wet and winter upon them all.
It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new.
It would have made a nice painting, were someone to choose something as lowly as that to study. Another story, a story written in oils rather than one painted on porcelain. But to be most effective, t...
In summer moonlight, she was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified.
If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.
I never use the words humanist or humanitarian, as it seems to me that to be human is to be capable of the most heinous crimes in nature.
He didn’t remember that a mere book might reek of sex, possibility, fecundity. Yet a book has a ripe furrow and a yielding spine, he thought, and the nuances to be teased from its pages are nearly inf...
Forget us, forget us all, it makes no difference now, but don't forget we loved it when we were alive.
Don't fasten on Dorothy. Only unanswerable longing lies down that road. Gone is gone.
Die Wahrheit lässt sich nach Geschmack gestaltenDenn Wahrheit ist, was alle dafür halten!
I think that's shameful, even if it's just a story, to propose an afterlife for evil... Any afterlife notion is a manipulation and a sop. It's shameful the way the unionists and the pagans both keep t...
Place,