1430 10 5
|
Did they do it in pairs or all at the same time?
|
143061
|
The city had a way of going silent. Not a nervous silence, but a quiet silence. The sky was dark, yet everything was colored in a yellow hue cast by the arched streetlights. Buildings, parked vehicles, walls, pavement. Cars and scooters and ambulances and police cars…
|
143012
|
Every time it happens,
I think of Amber Heard
and how hard you can be slapped
without a bruise forming.
|
143020
|
“I don't cotton much to some of the johnnie-come-lately's we get around here,” says Graham Buchter. “They're a bunch of talkers—they wear me out.”
|
143097
|
Although it was unlikely that she would witness mobsters racing up or down Wabash Avenue with guns ablast, she paced behind the hotel's ground-floor glass eyeing traffic for fifteen or twenty minutes . . .
|
143031
|
. . . my mind stops idling, kicks back into gear . . .
|
143031
|
Anna's daily train commute from the outer suburban fringes to the city reveals a message that changes her life.
|
143034
|
LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHINGIf you think by your death you have left me alone, to pine, to regret, to watch cable tv, you're wrong.At bedtime I wear a new black lace gown,and arrange myself to advantageon sheets finer than any we shared.I've left the…
|
143022
|
My grandma kicks field goals between her bedposts, again and again. My finger is sore from holding. She says that's all I'm good for. My finger is smudged with ink from writing my poems on her paper: half-moon rowboats, clouds like whales. She twisted my finger for …
|
1430126
|
|
143064
|
|
143098
|
He prided himself on being not menacing like a bear.
|
143052
|
We’ve both been broken, we’ve both been defeated and jaded and we’ve both cried uncontrollably, but we’ve always managed to get back on our feet.
|
143064
|
The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…
|
143000
|
I felt the most afraid I’ve ever felt in my life, like all the unknowns in the universe were rushing through me at once.
|
143000
|
Tomiko did not feel lost. Although she struggled to understand what was going on around her, she knew where she wanted to go.
|
143032
|
Once upon a time he'd thought her as cold a fish as her aristocratic husband
|
143011
|
She sat down in the big soft chair in front of his desk. “In your religion you believe in past lives, right?”
“Yes, reincarnation is a tenet of the Hindu faith.” He replied.
“As Catholics, I think we believe that only Jesus had the power to come
|
143000
|
Mayumi and Emi followed Nina through a path away from the shrine grounds. It was narrow, but the plants did not interfere with their progress. Flowers showed signs of wilting, unable to handle the cold slowly coming in.
|
142921
|
He keeps re-reading the menu but knows already how it ends..
|
142923
|
|
142922
|
The research facility is located at the bottom of a steep and jagged valley, far away from Heaven, and the anguished eye of The Almighty.
|
142967
|
The dead girl was his niece’s daughter. Only thirteen years old.
|
142996
|
Suppose you could bend your whole body backwards like she did, you know, like a taunt powerful bow and arrow kit, and push the rest of your truest self forward into his concentrating face, just like Georgia O'Keeffe in…
|
142922
|
Does modeling come easily to me? Am I made for the camera? Not exactly. When I pose for a shot, I feel, well, like a poser, really.
|
142975
|
you can't always get what you want
|
142964
|
Agents I have little idea. Woiwode partly supported his family in the 60s by publishing in The NYer (his friends were De Niro and Barthelme) so perhaps there was little trouble in his finding one. E.W. met his at a bar. He publishes in Paris and Texas.
|
142952
|
“Please excuse the form letter, but due to the volume of god-awful submissions that we receive, we do not have the time to crush the spirit of each writer personally.”
|
142821
|
Neighbors trade novels
through windows
|
142894
|
The poet could not speak of himself
but only of the gradations leading toward
him and away. ~ Mark Strand
|
