Better never means better for everyone, he says. It always means worse, for some.
As it says in the Bible, For now we through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. If it is face to face, there must be two looking.
And he couldn't stand to be nothing, to know himself to be nothing. He needs to be listened to, he needs to be heard. He needs at least the illusion of being understood.
And I wondered what would become of me, and comforted myself that in a hundred years I would be dead and at peace, and in my grave; and I thought it might be less trouble altogether, to be in it a goo...
All those years I'd kept an outline of my father in my head, like a chalk line enclosing a father-shaped space. When I was little, I'd coloured it in often enough. But those colours had been too brigh...
All observations of life are harsh, because life is. I lament that fact, but I cannot change it.
A breath would blow you away, they beam down at her silently. You wish, thinks Tony, smiling up. Many have blown. She
There was little that was truly original or indigenous to Gilead. Its genius was synthesis.
Gazing up at the stars through the gently moving leaves. They seem close, the stars, but they're far away. Their light is millions, billions of years out of date. Messages with no sender.
And the one on the pigeons, trained to peck a button that made a grain of corn appear. Three groups of them: the first got one grain per peck, the second one grain every other peck, the third was rand...
If I was a princess, with silver and gold,And loved by a hero, I'd never grow old:Oh, if a young hero came a-marrying me,I'd always be beautiful, happy, and free!Then sail, my fine lady, on the billow...
Is what they say, and sometimes , as if mad is a different direction, like west; as if mad is a different house you could step into, or a separate country entirely. But when you go mad you don't go an...
¿Pero quién puede recordar el dolor, una vez que éste ha desaparecido? Todo lo que queda de él es una sombra, ni siquiera en la mente ni en la carne. El dolor deja una marca demasiado profunda como pa...
They were awful without being believable. They were too melodramatic, they had a dimension that was not the dimension of our lives.
There’s often more in silences than in what is actually said – in the lips pressed together, the head turned away, the quick sideways glance. The shoulders drawn up as if carrying a heavy weight.
Her body feels different, no longer taut and sinewy but sponge-like fluid. Saturated. It has a different energy, a deep orangy-like pink, like the inside of a hibiscus.
Gazing down at the black water remembering all the stories of women who had thrown themselves into it. They'd done it for love, because that was the effect love had on you. It snuck up on you, it grab...
Friendship was always contingent.
But it is my true belief that it was the doctor that killed her with his knife; him and the gentleman between them. For it is not always the one that strikes the blow, that is the actual murderder;
At this distanceyou’re a mirage, a glossy imagefixed in the postureof the last time I saw you.Turn you over, there’s a placefor the address. Wish you werehere.