Utter objectivity...is not only impossible when judging literature, it’s not exactly desirable. Fiction involves trace elements of magic; it works for reasons we can explain and also for reasons we ca...
Unfamiliar insects produced a soft but insistent chirp; a crisp whir like the sound the earth itself might make rolling through the darkness if we all kept quiet enough to hear it. The lights of the c...
These hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope more than anything, for more.
There’s the appeal of the young thief who robs you, and climbs back down off your cloud. It’s possible to love that boy, in a wistful and hopeless way. It’s possible to love his greed and narcissism,...
There’s just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we’ve ever imagined.
There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lived seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children...
Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.
The book worm, the foreign-looking one with the dark, close set eyes an the Roman nose, who had never been sought after or cherished; who had always been left alone, to read.
That may have been when they took their vows: We are no longer siblings, we are mates, starship survivors, a two-man crew wandering the crags and crevices of a planet that may not be inhabited by anyo...
Take me with you. I want a doomed love. I want streets at night, wind and rain, no one wondering where I am.
THE PILGRIM MOTHERS AND FATHERS Provincetown’s first settlers were, in fact, the Pilgrims, who sailed the Mayflower into Provincetown Harbor in 1620. They spent the winter there but, finding too littl...
She loves the world for being rude and indestructible, and she knows that other people must love it too, poor as well as rich, though no one speaks specifically of the reasons. Why else do we struggle...
She lays the book face down on her chest. Already her bedroom (no, their bedroom) feels more densely inhabited, more actual, because a character named Mrs. Dalloway is on her way to buy flowers.
She always surprises you this way, by knowing more than you think she does. Louis wonders ifthey're calculated, these little demonstrations of self-knowledge that pepper Clarissa's wise, hostessyperfo...
Richard kurnazca gülümsüyor. 'Ah şu uğurlu işaretler,' diyor, 'onlara inanıyor musun? Bize bu kadar önem verildiğini mi düşünüyorsun? Bizimle bu kadar ilgilenildiğini mi düşünüyorsunuz? Ah, öyle olsa...
Prosím, Bože, sešli mi něco, co bych mohl zbožňovat.
Perhaps, in the extravagance of youth, we give away our devotions easily and all but arbitrarily, on the mistaken assumption that we’ll always have more to give.
People are more than you think they are. And they're less, as well. The trick lies in negotiating your way between the two.
Our hopes may seem unrealized, but we were in all likelihood hoping for the wrong thing.
Oh, all you immigrants and visionaries, what do you hope to find here, who do you hope to become?