Thoughts are thoughts and that's all they are.
Behind the building rose towering, aged pine trees whose shadows fell crabbed and arthritic across the lawn. The lawn was expansive and in good, green shape. It offered contrast. It was like a fresh h...
Endless soaring toy-rocket dreams and schemes that let out a sad, weak 'pop' at their high climax point and then flake apart as they tumble toward some thorn patch that's also a hatching ground for ba...
Art, art of any kind, shows that folks are trying.
A writer is someone who tells you one thing so someday he can tell his readers another thing: what he was thinking but declined to say, or what he would have thought had he been wiser. A writer turns...
This was all our world was made of: decomposed visions. Not atoms --- bits of dreams.
They were gray, staring, bottomless, blank, fallen eyes whose pupils played scenes of heaven upside down.
We're a telephone family, strung out along the wires, sharing our news in loops and daisy chains. We don't meet face-to-face much, and when we do there's a dematerialized feeling, as though only half...
Eyewitness News' is a clever plot to convince us that all the important events are happening somewhere else, to other people, at the same time we're literally dying in our beds.
Their throat muscles shifted sharply when they spoke, as if separately manufacturing each word.
He lived in two modes, the apparent and the veiled, and in two realms, the opera and the sewer, and he shuttled between them like a genie.
I just wasn't ready for his stories. They'd breed with the others I'd heard and hatch new monsters, because there was no such thing as separation here, not once you'd started listening. Never listen.
I sensed that almost all of them knew they didn't have much more time on earth. Maybe this accounted for their willingness to pitch in with strangers and form a neighborhood.
People, including types that I didn’t like much at all but felt I had something to learn or to gain from.
Sometimes I wondered if my problem was liking too many different kinds of
Reliving his degradation had struck some spark in him and it was glowing now like a blown-on coal.
Leslie Titmuss bothered me. His name, it made me want to sneeze. I also thought I recognized it. I typed it into my laptop, a procedure that had lately held far too much suspense for me. Among the top...
Overpopulation has a ceiling: earth’s total surface area divided by the dimensions of one economy seat. One more baby is born and hello cannibalism.
Who all these people, so many of them brown? What this ritual unfolding around him? I've never seen a German look as German as Clark did when he assessed his likely assessors. His eyes were like sm...
Our faith was a flickering flame.
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