But I think some people wait forever, and only at the end of their lives do they realize that their life has happened while they were waiting for it to start. Do you know what I mean, Pasquale? He did...
And on and on it goes, in a thousand directions, everything occurring at once, in a great storm of the present, of now - all those lovely wrecked lives.
And I wonder if we don't live like waterseeking a levela low beduntil one day we just go dry.I wonder if a creek ever realizesit has made its own grave.
And thus the sewer is man’s greatest achievement, Carlo, the disposal of shit the apex of all this inventing and fighting and copulating).
Mother: a man wants many things in life, but when one of them is also the right thing, he would be a fool not to choose it. Pasquale waited until the
And he urges the old man to remember the last moment he felt his being without its relation to beloved Amedea, his last moment of individual happiness or longing—
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...
Yes, what is it like? Certainly not like she dreamed. But maybe that's okay. We want what we want. At home, she works herself into a frenzy worrying about what she isn't--and perhaps loses track of ju...
YOU CAN SEE FOR MILES in both directions from the point on Ruby Ridge. From here, the paths of the Weaver family and the federal government seem inevitable, trucks barreling toward each another on a o...
What person who has enjoyed life could possibly think one is enough? Who could live even a day and not feel the sweet ache of regret?
There would seem to be nothing more obvious, more tangible and palpable than the present moment. And yet it eludes us completely. All the sadness of life lies in that fact. —Milan Kundera T
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...
Sometimes it was like a deep ache, the simple act of breathing in and out.
Something about the memory caused him to tear up, to think again about the unknowable nature of the people we love.
IN THE NINE YEARS since the standoff at Ruby Ridge and in the six years since this book first appeared, much has happened. Yet little has changed. Tens of millions of dollars have been spent on hearin...
God, this life is a cold, brittle thing. And yet it’s all there is.
First, her father had a minor stroke, giving Claire a glimpse of his mortality and, by extension, her own. And then she had a vision of herself thirty years in the future: a spinster librarian in an a...
Every Sunday, the Weavers drove their Oldsmobile east toward Waterloo and pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Cedarloo Baptist Church, on a hill between Waterloo and Cedar Falls, took their plac...
Claire happy to no longer expect...but embrace the sweet lovely mess that is real life.
And what she loved about Lydia’s play: that it gets at this idea that true sacrifice is painless.