How was it possible to wake up every day and be recognizable to another when so often one was barely recognizable to oneself?
Our kiss was niticlimactic. It wasn't that the kiss was bad, but it was just a note of punctuation in our long conversation, a parenthetical remark made in order to assure each other of a deeply felt...
There was stored substrata along
The memories were too perfect: take one detail away and they collapsed into disorder.
Maybe Grodzenski was showing me, with his quiet pride, the reason he hummed a little while he worked.
He couldn’t have known it, but among the original run of The History of Love, at least one copy was destined to change a life.This particular book was one of the last of the two thousand to be printed...
He went on for some time while I sat listening in silence because I knew he was right, and like two people who have loved each other however imperfectly, who have tried to make a life together, howeve...
He learned to live with the truth. Not to accept it, but to live with it.
It would mark the end of a year that he might look back on as hands, a pivot between two lines. Or not: maybe enough time, would pass that eventually he would look back on his life, all of it, as a se...
When you are young, you think it's going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close -- as close as you can get -- to another person only makes clear that impassable distance between you.[…]I d...
All I want is not to die on a day I went unseen.
Y entonces le dio un beso. Aquel beso era una pregunta que él deseó estar contestando durante el resto de su vida.
She was one of a group of girls he’d observed bloom from scraggly weeds into tropical beauties who churned the air around them into a dense humidity.
The air felt different in my lungs. The world no longer looked the same. You change and then you change again. You become a dog, a bird, a plant that always leans to the left. Only now that my son was...
Part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.
Sometimes no length of string is long enough to say the thing that needs to be said. In such cases all the string can do, in whatever its form, is conduct a person's silence.
If you remember the first time you saw Alma, you also remember the last.
She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into smaller and smaller parts and scatter these in places she thought no one would find them.
This is why the rabbis tell us that a broken heart is more full than one that is content: because a broken heart has a vacancy, and the vacancy has the potential to be filled with the infinite.
I’ve always liked the feeling of traveling light; there is something in me that wants to feel I could leave wherever I am, at any time, without any effort. The idea of being weighed down made me uneas...
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