He had had some eye work done: a lift to remove the puff and bloat; he would rather look startled and insane than look fifty-six.
What makes humans human is precisely that they do not know the future. That is why they do the fateful and amusing things they do: who can say how anything will turn out? Therein lies the only hope fo...
This was supposed to be the Presidential Suite, she said, gazing into the room at the holes in the wall.well, even presidents get shot, I said.
She should stay here with him, unorphan him with love's unorphaning, live wise and simple in a world monstrous enough for years of whores and death, and poems of whores and death, so monstrous how cou...
The later-afternoon air of our exhalations hung in brief clouds before us. The thought balloon of my own breath said, How have I found myself here? It was not a theological question. It was one of tra...
We used awesome the way the British used brilliant: for anything at all. Perhaps . . . it was a kind of antidepressant: inflated rhetoric to keep the sorry truth at bay.
Love drains you, takes with it much of your blood sugar and water weight. You are like a house slowly losing its electricity, the fans slowing, the lights dimming and flickering; the clocks stop and g...
My grandmother, who, when I visited, stared at me with the staggering, arrogant stare of the dying, the wise vapidity of the already gone; she refused to occupy the features of her face.
So I needed to be womanised. I was losing my sheen.
No, I'm not Jewish, she said archly, staring him down, to teach him, to teach him this: Are you?Yes, he said. He studied her eyes.Oh, she said.Not many of us in this part of the world, so I thought I'...
Oh, she said. I wasn't going to ask, but then you never said anything about it, so I thought I'd ask.How about you?Not me, said Odette. She had a poem about marriage. It began, Marriage is the death y...
Surrealism could not be made up. It was the very electricity of the real.
On Fridays there were fish fries or boils at which they served lawyers (burbot or eelpout), so-called because their hearts were in their butts.
On-yez, where are you from, dear?' asked a black-slacked, frosted-haired woman whose skin was papery and melanomic with suntan. 'Originally.' She eyed Agnes's outfit as if it might be what in fact it...
One should never turn one's back on a vivid imagination.
Pek çok eski Fransız tüccarı doğayla, özellikle de suyla öyle düşmanca ilişkiler içindeymiş ki isim verdikleri her şey kasvetlerini taşıyordu: bütün hoş tatil yerlerinin adları Fransızcadan Ölümün Kap...
Perhaps everyone had their own way of preparing to die. Life got you ready.
Perhaps she drives men away. Perhaps, without even being able to help herself, she just puts men into her ill-tempered car and drives them off: to quarries, dumps, small anonymous bodies of water.
Sarah'nın gülmek yerine, Komik, ya da gülümsemek yerine, İlginç, ya da Aptal zırva geri zekâlının tekisin, demek yerine, Şey, sanırım bu ondan biraz daha karmaşık, diyen kadınlardan olmasından korktum...
You were never to say you weren't fine, thank you — and yourself? You were supposed to be Heidi. You were supposed to lug goat milk up the hills and not think twice. Heidi did not complain. Heidi did...
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