What kind of wife would I be if I left your father simply because he was dead?
Stories are people. I'm a story, you're a story . . . Your father is a story. Our stories go in every direction, but sometimes, if we're lucky, our stories join into one, and for a while, we're less a...
You don't really want my side of the story. You don't want to understand me, know me, to crawl inside of my head. You don't want to feel the things I've felt. You just want to know that one thing: why...
If I looked like you, Debra, I’d masturbate all the time
Whole worlds exist beneath the surface. And maybe you can't see down there, Michael thought, but there's a part of you that knows.
What kind of wife would I be if I left your father simply because he is dead?
Here she was, barely twenty-eight, working on a studio lot, not doing what she’d dreamed, exactly, but doing what people did in this business: taking meetings, reading scripts, and hearing pitches—pre...
A hole opened up and he had to know what was inside it. So he picked and picked until the hole was huge, and then everything sort of... fell in, him, his wife, his kid, and this fragile life they'd bu...
Other women were like presents he was constantly disappointed in unwrapping
How do you think it should end? Young Pasquale considered the question. Well, instead of going back to America during the war, he could go to Germany and try to kill Hitler. Ah, Alvis Bender said. Yes...
To the Cedar Falls legalists, if God’s word could come that way 10,000 years ago, there was no reason to believe it couldn’t come that way now. So when Vicki decided her family would follow Old Testam...
This is what happens when you live in dreams, he thought: you dream this and you dream that and you sleep right through your life. He needed coffee.
On any given day in Spokane, Washington, there are more adult men per capita riding children's BMX bikes than in any other city in the world.
There are only two good outcomes for a quest like this, the hope of the serendipitous savant — sail for Asia and stumble on America — and the hope of scarecrows and tin men: that you find out you had...
How can you not feel like a whole city of people waiting for it to finally be over, a whole city tending a parent’s slow death?
Buried by random events, ruined by confusion and grief.
Our lives have a way of eddying back on themselves, offering us the same view over and over, daring us to get it right just once.
Great fiction tells unknown truths. Great film goes further. Great film improves Truth. After all, what Truth ever made $40 million in its first weekend of wide release? What Truth sold in forty forei...
Stories are nations, empires.
No one gets to tell you what your life means!
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