Happy to no longer expect the dead perfection of museum art, but embrace the sweet lovely mess that is real life.
Imagine never leaving North Idaho again. He’s got his coffee and he’s got his ritual, his work around the cabin, and with the new satellite dish Lydia buys him for his birthday, he’s got nine hundred...
You can always spot the real thing, that affection; why does it always come from the wrong person?
We want what we want
Divination of true nature. Of motivation. Of desirous hearts. I saw the whole world in a flash and I recognized it at once: We want what we want.
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...
We want what we want—we love who we love.
We live in a world of banal miracles.
God, this life is a cold, brittle thing. And yet it’s all there is.
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?
He found himself in habiting the vast, empty plateau where most people live, between boredom and contentment.
He was part of a ruined generation of young men coddled by their parents -by their mothers especially- raised on unearned self-esteem, in a bubble of overaffection, in a sad incubator of phony achieve...
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...
I wondered if I even had a self. I miss you, I said aloud. Surprised at myself, I looked around to see if anyone had heard, but no one was n
It was odd and intimate, their hands connected, their heads in different rooms. They could talk. They could hold hands. But they couldn't see each other's faces.
The water. The feral cats scattered before her.
The whole world is sick...we've all got this pathetic need to be seen. We're a bunch of fucking toddlers trying to get attention.
Rather, he found himself inhabiting the vast, empty plateau where most people live, between boredom and contentment.
Sometimes, now, when she sees how content Pat and Lydia are, she feels like a spent salmon: her work here is done. But other times, honestly, the whole idea of being at peace just pisses her off. At p...
The movie I was working on, Cleopatra, it's about how destructive a force love can be. But maybe that's what every story is about.
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