“ My fingers curl through the holes in the wicker, through the wet grass beneath it, trying to hold tight to the sharp blades of the present. Somewhere in my brain a sinkhole is bubbling over, and each… Karen Russell
“ Far away, I can hear Mouflon, our last sheep, bleating in the dark. I wonder if Annie is still out to protect her, still scouring the woods in barefoot pursuit of those dogs. I feel sorry for Annie, a… Karen Russell
“ A few of us always compared anything good to: ' Isn't it just like camp?' When we first got married, we asked each other, 'Was your honeymoon good?' 'Yeah. It was just like camp. Laurie Kahn
