Then one night I woke at three A.M. certain he was rotting like a chicken carcass. Only as I lowered him into the sink did I realize this was a crazy time to wash a baby and I began to cry because he...
Their prayer was rage.
The usual treatment is psychotherapy. I know. I didn’t explain that I was single. Therapy is for couples. So is Christmas. So is camping. So is beach camping.
The subtitle of the book was Keeping Love and Intimacy Alive in Committed Relationships. I was working through it, word by word. So far I had done Keeping and was just starting on Love. I worried that...
That is my problem with life, I rush through it, like I'm being chased.
She was a very beautiful person who was missing something very ugly. Her winnings were the absence of something, and this quality hung around her.
People tend to stick to their own size group because it’s easier on the neck.
Our bleak reality was now apparent: we couldn’t leave and we couldn’t change partners.
Live the dream, Potato.
Like a rich person, I live with a full-time servant who keeps everything in order—and because the servant is me, there’s no invasion of privacy.
Let's say a person is down in the dumps, or maybe just lazy, and they stop doing the dishes. Soon the dishes are piled sky-high and it seems impossible to even clean a fork. So the person starts eatin...
I guess that's true, you really can't complain, can you?
I feel into the eyes of every person I passed on the street.
I could not make a move without making love.
He pulled away, but his eyes held my eyes like hands.
He loved me. He was a complex person with layers of percolating emotions, some of them spiritual, some tortured in a more secular way, and he burned for me. This complicated flame of being was mine.
He breathed out the bitter air that makes women doubt everything, and I breathed it in, as I had always done. I expelled my dust, the powder of everything I had destroyed with doubt, and he pulled it...
By now everyone must have realized that this person is not coming back to the picnic. Everyone was wrong; this person is not who they thought this person was. This person plunges underwater and moves...
But it had another layer to it, because imitating crass people was kind of liberating—like pretending to be a child or a crazy person. It was something you could do only with someone you really truste...
But as the sun rose I crested the mountain of my self-pity and remembered I was always going to die at the end of this life anyway.