The distance between Mooreland in 1965 and a city like San Francisco in 1965 is roughly equivalent to the distance starlight must travel before we look up casually from a cornfield and see it.
I once heard her tell a friend that she was, in fact, a 120-pound woman, but she kept herself wrapped in fat in order to prevent bruising.
I figure heaven will be a scratch-and-sniff sort of place, and one of my first requests will be the Driftwood in its prime, while it was filled with our life. And later I will ask for the smell of my...
Contrary to popular opinion, my dad was not a lazy man. He was not lazy at all, for instance, when it came to Going Places In His Truck. He was also very industrious about Preparing To Go Camping. And...
Cassie got in her truck.She didnt own much , but it was all there with her.A vintage Balabushka pool cue won fair & square; a backpackfrom a Boy Scout packed with Laura,s letters.a phone number in Bil...
But I loved him, loved him, a little girl is helpless against her love for a brother. I climbed on him, harassed him, begged him to carry me, take me with him wherever he was going. From a distance he...
Every beautiful and strange event made more poignant for having been photographed.
In the 1970s people still referred to my mother as a Communist because she had a subscription to The Atlantic Monthly,
All men of a certain age tell this story, and they give themselves away by always using the same fruit. I have yet to meet the father who will look his child in the eye and say, I was happy just to ge...
What kind of good deeds? Like Girl Scouts? Because I got kicked out of Brownies and they won't give me another chance to keep my clothes on at camp.
Well, I’m here to tell you: I’ve seen women passionately devoted to men who couldn’t pile bricks, and whole families of slack-jawed nose pickers held together by love, not to mention all those people...
The pigs were pushing their noses through the slats in the truck bed, which made Langston so unaccountably sad she thought she would have to sit down on the sidewalk. How is it possible, she thought,...
My favorite was Love Is...Never Having to Say You're Sorry. This was,the good Lord knew, a dream of mine. But every time I refused to apologize for something, Love seemed to just fly out the window.
It was an Indian summer afternoon in Indiana, a rare gift. We walked home slowly. I thought Mom might be wrong about me having all I needed, but just at that moment, I had no need to complain.
I sensed weeping and salvation in the air, two of my least favorite things.
He did know: he knew her right away, and he felt known by her, and that was where the trouble really began...She could have been exotic or worldly or a Valkyrie and it would have meant nothing to him....
Laura had hoped, she'd written in her journal, that whatever befell her daughters, they would not be damaged at the level of instinct, that exact phrase.
They did a lot of cleaning in their house, which I considered to be a sign of immoral parenting. The job of parents, as I saw it, was to watch television and step into a child's life only when absolut...
There is a kind of wildness that grows up among people who have gathered in the dark, and we all felt a little giddy.
The book was so clean and white, and the letters were so perfectly black and defenseless; it would have been like tearing the ears off a kitten.