Nobody's American, said Wednesday. Not originally. That's my point.
Nobody died. how can you kill an idea? How can you kill the personification of an action?Then what died? who are you mourning?A point of view.
MY JUVENILE DELINQUENT IS SCREWING YOUR HONOR STUDENT.
Lives are snowflakes - forming patterns we have seen before, as like one another as peas in a pod, but still unique.
Lies and half-truths fall like snow, covering the things that I remember, the things I saw. A landscape, unrecognizable after a snowfall; that is that she has made of my life.
It is a long story, and it does no credit to anyone: there is murder in it, and trickery, lies and foolishness, seduction and pursuit. Listen.
If you were close enough to her ruby-red lips you would hear her say, 'I will rise now and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek the one I love.' She is whispering that,...
I would not wish to marry someone who had already been married. It would be,' she opined, 'like having someone else break in one's own pony.
I think I’ll dismember the world and then I’ll dance in the wreckage.
I saw the world I had walked since my birth and I understood how fragile it was, that the reality was a thin layer of icing on a great dark birthday cake writhing with grubs and nightmares and hunger.
Fox was here first, and his brother was the wolf. Fox said, people will live forever. If they die they will not die for long. Wolf said, no, people will die, people must die, all things that live must...
Fiction builds empathy. Fiction is something you build up from twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks, and you, and you alone, using your imagination, create a world, and people it and...
Cómo tomas el café?Negro como la noche y dulce como un pecado.
Can't say I've ever been too fond of beginnings, myself. Messy little things. Give me a good ending anytime. You know where you are with an ending.
As we age, we become our parents; live long enough and we see faces repeat in time.
And why does he talk so funny? Doesn't he mean squashed tomatoes?I don't think that they had tomatoes when he comes from, said Bod. And that's just how they talk then.
All Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories—if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.
A philosopher once asked, Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human? Pointless, really...Do the stars gaze back? Now, that's a question.
He said nothing. It seemed the smartest thing to say.
It's still National Library Week. You should be especially nice to a librarian today, or tomorrow. Sometime this week, anyway. Probably the librarians would like tea. Or chocolates. Or a reliable sour...