Or he’d watch the news: more plagues, more famines, more floods, more insect or microbe or small-mammal outbreaks, more droughts, more chickenshit boy-soldier wars in distant countries. Why was everyt...
One of the gravestones in the cemetery near the earliest church has an anchor on it and an hourglass, and the words In Hope.In Hope. Why did they put that above a dead person? Was it the corpse hoping...
Now maybe I wouldn't do it, but I was a child then, said Oryx more softly. Why are you so angry? I don't buy it, said Jimmy. Where was her rage, how far down was it buried, what did he have to do to d...
Now I wanted to be acknowledged, but I feared it.
No mother is ever, completely, a child's idea of what a mother should be, and I suppose it works the other way around as well.
My hands are out of practice, my eyes disused. Most of what I do is drawing, because the preparation of the surface, the laborious underpainting and detailed concentration... are too much for me. I ha...
Kill what you can't savewhat you can't eat throw outwhat you can't throw out buryWhat you can't bury give awaywhat you can't give away you must carry with you,it is always heavier than you thought.
Just remember this, when the scream at last has ended and you've turned on the lights: by the rules of the game, I must always lie.
Jon smashes things, and glues the shards into place in the pattern of breakage. I can see the appeal.
It is the strict adherence to daily routine that tends towards the maintenance of good morale and the preservation of sanity, he says out loud.
It is not only the body that travels, Adam One used to say, it is also the Soul. And the end of one journey is the beginning of another.
In ten years, you'll be on a stamp /where anyone at all can lick you.
I wish I didn't have to think about you. You wanted to impress me; well, I'm not impressed, I'm disgusted...You wanted to make damn good and sure I'd never be able to turn over in bed again without fe...
I want everything back, the way it was. But there is no point to it, this wanting.
I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed. There's a lot that doesn't bear thinking about.
I really don't know what men used to say. I had only their words for it.
I learned about religion the way most children learned about sex, [in the schoolyard]. . . . They terrified me by telling me there was a dead man in the sky watching everything I did and I retaliated...
I know why there is no glass, in front of the watercolor picture of blue irises, and why the window opens only partly and why the glass in it is shatter-proof. It isn't running away they're afraid of....
I knew what love was supposed to be: obsession with undertones of nausea.
I hunger to commit the act of touch.