She knows the rituals, she knows how we're supposed to be behaving...But I think these things are impenetrable and fraudulent, and I can't do them without feeling I'm acting.
She had no images of this love. She could offer no anecdotes. It was a belief rather than a memory.
She breathes in the cold air; pellets of blown ice whip against her face. The wind’s getting up, as the TV said it would. Nonetheless there’s something brisk about being out in the storm, something en...
She began to fret about God's exact location. It was the Sunday-school teacher's fault: God is everywhere, she'd said, and Laura wanted to know: was God in the sun, was God in the moon, was God in the...
Sex was a given, like food, and as such was to be relished when excellent and derided when substandard; it was an entertainment, like the theatre, and could thus be reviewed like a performance.
Romantic people are not supposed to laugh, I know that much from looking at the pictures.
Rezábamos por la vacuidad, para hacernos dignas de ser llenadas: de gracia, de amor, de abnegación, de semen y de niños.Oh, Dios, Rey del universo, gracias por no haberme hecho hombre.Oh, Dios, destrú...
Reenie never went in much for God. There was mutual respect, and if you were in trouble naturally you’d call on him, as with lawyers; but as with lawyers, it would have to be bad trouble. Otherwise it...
Red all over the cupboard, mirth rhymes with birth, oh to die of laughter.
Prayer is wanting. Jesus, Jesus he says, but he's not praying to Jesus, he's praying to you, not to your body or your face but to the space you hold at the centre, which is the shape of the universe....
Part of what impelled him was stubbornness; resentment, even. The system had filed him among the rejects, and what he was studying was considered—at the decision-making levels, the levels of real powe...
Our fragments made us.
Only fools, he said, were given to bragging about how much they could drink.
One look at a banana and you can tell it came from outer space.
On the eastern horizon there’s a greyish haze, lit now with a rosy, deadly glow. Strange how that colour still seems tender. He gazes at it with rapture; there is no other word for it. Rapture. The he...
Nothing is more difficult than to understand the dead, I've found; but nothing is more dangerous than to ignore them.
Not so her eyes, which were the flat hostile blue of a midsummer sky in bright sunlight, a blue that shuts you out.
No more photos. Surely there are enough. No more shadows of myself thrown by light onto pieces of paper, onto squares of plastic. No more of my eyes, mouths, noses, moods, bad angles. No more yawns, t...
Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from...
My red skirt is hitched up to my waist, though no higher. Below it the Commander is fucking. What he is fucking is the lower part of my body.