When did it come to Davy Land that exile is a country of shifting borders, hard to quit yet hard to endure, no matter your wide shoulders, no matter your toughened heart?
You said yourself they didn’t hurt your girl. Waiting, Davy asked, How many times does a dog have to bite before you put him down?
And now, from beneath the audible, came a low reverberation. It came up through the soles of my feet. I stood still while it hummed upward bone by bone. There is no adequate simile. The pulse of the c...
Be careful whom you choose to hate.The small and the vulnerable own a protection great enough, if you could but see it, to melt you into jelly.Beware those who reside beneath the shadow of the Wings.
Dewey Hall was the only building on campus not made of brick, and the tornado came for it in absolute maturity, no umbilical growth now but a strong slender lady hip-walking through campus--past the s...
He stood and nodded at the great whitening sky. We’re sure small, wouldn’t you say? Takes the onus off, somehow.
I experienced an unspooling sense of freedom—genuine antagonism is something I’ve rarely encountered, and it felt good to respond with honesty instead of obsequious scraping.
Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally,...
Many a night I woke to the murmur of paper and knew he was up, sitting in the kitchen with frayed King James—oh, but he worked that book; he held to it like a rope ladder.
No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here’s what I saw. Here’s how it went. Make of it what you will.
Once in my life I knew a grief so hard I could actually hear it inside, scraping at the lining of my stomach, an audible ache, dredging with hooks as rivers are dredged when someone’s been missing too...
Sleep that day was a warm pool in which I dove and stayed, sporadically lifting my head to sense the world.
Someday, you know, we're going to be shown the great ledger of our recorded decisions-a dread concept you nonetheless know in your deepest soul is true.
Sometimes heroism is nothing more than patience, curiosity, and a refusal to panic.
The firelight had restored his face to healthy color and she, all Frenchbraided, scarf unslung, resembled an opportunity missed by Rembrandt.
We see a newborn moth unwrapping itself and announce, Look, children, a miracle! But let an irreversible wound be knit back to seamlessness? We won't even see it, though we look at it every day.
Why is it our failures only show us more clearly the people we are failing?
You can embark on new and steeper versions of your old sins, you know, and cry tears while doing it that are genuine as any.
Telegram saying, Existence is great but don’t read so much into it.
At first I thought common nouns were hardest hit, coffee and doorway and so on, but it soon became clear that the missing were mostly adjectives.
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