Nature is to zoos as God is to churches.
Money does talk, but it has a limited vocabulary.
I'm working on my own life story. I don't mean I'm putting it together; no, I'm taking it apart. If you'd wanted the narrative line you should have asked earlier, when I still knew everything and was...
I'm sad now, the way we're talking is infinitely sad: faded music, faded paper flowers, worn satin, an echo of an echo. All gone away, no longer possible.
I wasn't even sure I wanted a man in my life again; by that time I'd exhausted the notion that the answer to a man is another man, and I was out of breath.
I try not to think too much. Like other things now, thought must be rationed.
I don’t even close my eyes. Out there or inside my head, it’s an equal darkness. Or light.
I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong,...
I avoid looking down at my body, not so much because it's shameful or immodest but because I don't want to see it. I don't want to look at something that determines me so completely. I
I am tempted to think that to be despised by her sex is a very great compliment to a woman.
I am not mad because I'm a woman... I'm mad because you're an asshole.
I already told you, said Adam. There is no need to swear.Sorry, it just fucking slipped out, said Zeb.
He’s a young man, my own age or a little older, which is young for a man although not for a woman,
He would have died soon, but more painfully. Anyway, it was Urban Bloodshed Limitation. First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your own gets spilled.
He put his arms around me. We were both feeling miserable. How were we to know we were happy, even then? Because we at least had that: arms, around.
Forgiving men is so much easier than forgiving women.
Everyone believed him of course, but you always knew with Salome that if anyone’s head was going to roll it wouldn’t be hers.
But she went to tell the bees. She felt like an idiot doing it, but she'd promised. She remembered that it wasn't enough just to think at them: you had to say the words out loud. Bees were the messeng...
But I'm ravenous for news, any kind of news; even if it's false news, it must mean something.
At night, Toby breathed herself in. Her new self. Her skin smelled like honey and salt. And earth