These stories date from my Honorable Discharge from the Army at the end of World War II. Their order is, to the best of my memory, chronological and the most embarrassingly immature pieces have been d...
Merrill poteva essere paragonato a una giornata d’estate, in particolare alle sue ultime ore, e anche se non aveva una racchetta da tennis né una borsa da vela, evocava un’immagine di gioventù sportiv...
It was still mild when they walked home from the party, and Irene looked up at the spring stars. How far that little candle throws its beams, she exclaimed. So shines a good dead in a naughty world.
Seated at the table, high in her firmament of gin, she looked critically at her brother and his wife, remembering some real or imagined injustice of her youth, for with any proximity the constellation...
In middle age there is mystery, there is mystification. The most I can make out of this hour is a kind of loneliness. Even the beauty of the visible world seems to crumble, yes even love. I feel that...