What did Shakespeare say? Or little lives are rounded with a sleep.
There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more.
There is something exciting about this. Peter still doesn't want to have sex with Mizzy, but there is something thrilling about downing a shot of vodka with another man who happens to be naked. There'...
The art we produce lives in queasy balance with the art we can imagine the art the room expects.
That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other.
Sometimes the fabric that separates us tears just enough for love to shine through. Sometimes the tear is surprisingly small.
Something like anger, but the anger of a philosopher, the anger of a poet, an anger directed at the transience of the world, at its heartbreaking beauty that collides constantly with our awareness of...
Sim, pensa Clarissa, está na hora deste dia acabar. Nós damos nossas festas; abandonamos nossas famílias para viver no Canadá; nós nos digladiamos para escrever livros que não mudam o mundo, a despeit...
She'll be willing to meet someone who can hold her interest for more than a few months, and that guy will teach her about domestic deepenings, the modest reliable thrill of the familiar, which as almo...
She'd never imagined it like this-when she thought of someone (a woman like herself)losing her mind, she'd imagined shrieks and wails, hallucinations; but at that moment it had seemed clear that there...
She is an attractive, robust, fleshy, large-headed woman several years younger than Laura (it seems that every one, suddenly, is at least slightly younger than she).
She could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.
Ránk telepedett a csönd, az a fajta jótét hallgatás, amely időről időre megszakítja idegenek hétköznapi beszélgetését, és lehetővè teszi, hogy baj nélkül visszatérjenek életük ismerős keretei közé.
Most of us can be counted on to manage our own undoings.
Maybe – let’s not rule it out – this will be the song that cuts clean, the one that matters, the one that sheds standard-issue romance and reveals, under its old skin, a raw blood-red devotion deeper...
It's the solitude that slays you. Maybe because you'd expected ruin to arrive in a grander and more romantic form.
Is this what it's like to go crazy? She'd never imagined it like this.
Here they are, this once-prosperous couple, shocked, altered, dragged before the seat of the conqueror who'd promised it was only the servants and petty thieves who'd suffer.
He says, 'I don't know if I can face this. You know. The party and the ceremony, and then the hour after that, and the hour after that.''You don't have to go to the party. You don't have to go to the...
He feels, as he sometimes does, as most people must, a presence in the room, what he can only think of as his and Rebecca's living ghosts, the amalgamation of their dreams and their breathing, their s...