Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.
I stared at him for a long time. If he wanted to end his search for the beast, he need look no further than a mirror.
You do right by me, I'll show you a life most suckers can't even dream of.
I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets:
I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless,...
I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in teh hallway in wheelchairs makes me...
I usually know what the crisis of the book is going to be, though I don’t know how I’m going to get there. I try to make it bad enough that I don’t know how I’m going to get out of it. And when I get...
I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin.I want.
That moment, the music screeched to a halt. There was an ungodly collision of brass, reed, and percussion—trombones and piccolos skidded into cacophony, a tuba farted, and the hollow clang of a cymbal...
I've decided it's not about me at all. It's a protective mechanism for them, a way of buffering themselves against my future death, like when teenagers distance themselves from their parents in prepar...
To be sure, I'm not perfect wife material: I'm neurotic. I'm compulsive. I speak before I think and can't cook worth a damn. I'm messy and germaphobic all at once, and it's not entirely unheard of for...
In seventy years, I’ve never told a blessed soul.
In your thirties something strange starts to happen. It’s a mere hiccup at first, an instant of hesitation. How old are you? Oh, I’m — you start confidently, but then you stop. You were going to say t...
Is where you're from the place you're leaving or where you have roots?
When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.
Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn. Not that I wouldn't love to have a final roll in the hay - I am a man yet, and some thi...
Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
It was the only secret I kept from her and eventually it became impossible to fix. With a secret like that, at some point the secret becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.
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