We were up the whole night just talking, walking the city. You can walk those blocks forever, take a break on the edge of the fountain, eat pizza and snow cones, awed by the human carnival all around...
We swear we see each other, but all we are ever able to make out is a tiny porthole view of an ocean. We think we remember the past, but our memories are as fantastic and flimsy as dreams. It's so eas...
WELCOME TO THE BLACKBOARDSThis is the Cordovites' premier wormhole, where time ticks backward, trees grow down, light eats itself, fear is an opening, and life is Sovereign, Deadly, Perfect.
The notes weren't played, he went on, They were poured from a Grecian .
One of my pet peeves was when an adult imagined they had to encapsulate Life for you, hand you Life in a jar, in an eyedropper, in a penguin paperweight full of snow-A Collector's Dream.
I need to give you one last bit of advice in the off chance this rather extraordinary and enviable situation in which you find yourself is actually true- that somehow you've fallen deep down into a Co...
Women of Manhattan, magnificent as they were, they forgot sometimes they weren’t immortal. They could throw themselves like confetti into a fun-filled Friday night, with no thought as to what they fe...
To be sensitive is fine, but it makes day-to-day living- life -rather painful.
And that fear I'd felt, the disembodying confusion, seemed to be a drug I was now addicted to, because moving through the ordinary world- watching CNN, reading the Times, walking to Sant Ambroeus to h...
No wonder so many adults long to return to university, to all those deadlines--ahhh, that structure! Scaffolding to which we may cling! Even if it arbitrary, without it, we're lost, wholly incapable...
It's one of these juvenile therapy scams, he went on, sprinkling a pinch of the Golden Virginia tobacco along the rolling paper. They advertise help for your troubled teen by staring at the stars and...
She was lost now, she'd been silenced- another dead branch on Cordova's warped tree.
She was flighty and poor, a French studies major who quoted Simone de Beauvoir. She wiped her runny nose on her coat sleeve when it was snowing, stuck her head out of car windows the way dogs do, the...
You'll find that great artists don't love, live, fuck or even die like ordinary people. Because they always have their art. It nourishes them more than any connection to people. Whatever human tragedy...
We are all anthologies. We are each thousands of pages long, filled with fairy tales and poetry, mysteries and tragedy, forgotten stories in the back no one will ever read.
I’d actually questioned my sanity, wondered if this was it: the substandard past few years had finally led to a mental break with reality, and now, floodgates open, there’d be no limit to the fiends I...
I was a ticking clock in a timeless world
Well, it doesn't look good. Makes me look like one of those unloved latchkey children they make after-school specials about.Don't sell yourself short. You're more Masterpiece Theatre.
Not returning phone calls is the severest form of torture in the civilized world.
I hate how the people who really you are the ones you can never hold on to for very long. And the ones who don’t understand you stick around.