Lives are rivers. We imagine we can direct their paths, though in the end there’s but one destination, and we end up being true to ourselves only because we have no choice.
Lucy, who apparently had no idea his girlfriend's father held him in such low regard, agreed with Noonan that he was pushing the envelope, behaviorwise. Still, he was genuinely fond of the man and did...
Max would conclude, that's who I want to be. The pope. And I'll do the same thing he does. I'll keep all the goddamn money.
Maybe sheetrocking wasn't one of Sully's favorite jobs, but like most physical labor, there was a rhythm to it that you could find if you cared to look, and once you found this rhythm it'd get you thr...
That man truly loathes you, Herbert says when he's sure Rourke isn't coming back. I don't think so, I smile. I just give his life focus, that's all.
Miss Beryl: Doesn't it bother you that you haven't done more with the life God gave you?Sully: Not often. Now and then.
When you tossed pebbles down from the embankment, they believed in God. One
My God, he couldn't help thinking, how terrible it is to be that age, to have emotions so near the surface that the slightest turbulence causes them to boil over. That, very simply, was what adulthood...
My afternoon comp class is not persuaded. In fact, they feel ill-treated...I've read three short essays aloud, anonymously, for the purpose of inspiring discussion or, failing discussion, private misg...
My mother had more than once remarked that my father was one of the war's casualties, that the Sam Hall who came back wasn't the one who left, the one she'd fallen in love with. I didn't doubt that sh...
My mother has always been the sort of woman whose emotional state can be intuited from the volume at which she rattles kitchen utensils.
That afternoon I came to understand that one of the deepest purposes of intellectual sophistication is to provide distance between us and our most disturbing personal truths and gnawing fears.
Non basta una vita One life isn't enough
Nor do I want the woman that I’m married to and that I love to leave me, but the thought of her doing so moves me in a way that our growing old together and contentedly slipping, in affectionate tande...
Not giving a shit, she decided, is like the defrost option on a car's heater that miraculously unfogs the windshield, allowing you to see where you're headed.
Odd that the future should be so difficult to bring into focus when the past, uninvited, offered itself up so easily for inspection.
Probably horse doo had a name in french also, but that didn't mean god intended for you to eat it.
People sometimes get in the habit of being loyal to a mistake.
Perfect silence. This in response to Sully's key being turned in the ignition of the pickup.
These are not men of great imagination, but one can hardly blame them for not being prepared for this particular contingency, the sight of a tweet-jacketed, tenured, middle-aged, senior professor and...
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