From this distance it does resemble fun. Fun is not knowing how it will end.
From nowhere, a word appears: Mesozoic. He can see the word, he can hear the word, but he can't reach the word. He can't attach anything to it. This is happening too much lately, this dissolution of m...
For it is not always the one that strikes the blow that is the actual murderer; and Mary was done to death by that unknown gentleman, as surely as if he'd taken the knife and plunged it into her body...
CELLNow look objectively. You have toadmit the cancer cell is beautiful.If it were a flower, you'd say, with its mauve centre and pink petalsof if a cover for a pulpy thirtiessci-fi magazine. as an al...
But why bother about the end of the world? It’s the end of the world every day, for someone. Time rises and rises, and when it reaches the level of your eyes you drown.
But maybe boredom is erotic, when women do it, for men.
But how can you have a sense of wonder if you’re prepared for everything?
Being here with him is safety; it's a cave, where we huddle together while the storm goes on outside. This is a delusion, of course. This room is one of the most dangerous places I could be.
At night, Toby breathed herself in. Her new self. Her skin smelled like honey and salt. And earth
All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel. All of them? Sure, he says. Think about it. There’s escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capt...
A return to traditional values. Waste not want not. I am not being wasted. Why do I want?
All those paintings of women, in art galleries, surprised at private moments. Nymph Sleeping. Susanna and the Elders. Woman bathing, one foot in a tin tub - Renoir, or was it Degas? both, both women p...
Thinks Stan. She knows about the chickens.
I stand in the dark, start to unbutton. Then I hear something inside my body. I've broken, something has cracked, that must be it. Noise is coming up, coming out, of the broken place, in my face. With...
Perhaps I write for no one. Perhaps for the same person children are writing for when they scrawl their names in the snow.
War is what happens when language fails.
I don't think the relationship between novels and realities are one to one. Of course novels play different roles. It's essentially just a long narrative form. What you use that long narrative form fo...
…Homo sapiens doesn’t seem able to cut himself off at the supply end. He’s one of the few species that doesn’t limit reproduction in the face of dwindling resources. In other words - and up to a point...
Το νερό δεν αντιστέκεται. Το νερό ρέει. Όταν βυθίζεις το χέρι σου μέσα του, το μόνο που νιώθεις είν' ένα χάδι. Το νερό δεν είναι στέρεος τοίχος και δεν σε σταματάει. Όμως πηγαίνει όπου θέλει να πάει κ...
Recently returned from Boston, where she was staying with her Aunt, to broaden her education. She has turned out a charming young woman, everything one might wish for, and displayed a courtesy and gen...