1177 5 3
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alone and soaring in your eyesanother new journey for mebegins; my lifewants to make sense ofitself only for you, goingdeeper, hand youthe keys to that kingdom'srare maps and say,here,"fly, dream, fall to love'slake." You deserve it all.I swear…
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1177 1 1
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I like to keep my mind uncluttered for truly fresh information, like the fact that T.S. Eliot taught Virginia Woolf the Chicken Strut. That's news you can use.
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1177 0 0
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that lightheaded feeling you have right now is a good thing
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1176 11 10
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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.
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1176 0 0
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"The shipyards of the soul do not exist." The Colussus has always been a colossal waste, and the riddle of Your Father's Identity confounds no one but yourself. What a riddle, what pills! He was known for…
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1176 8 4
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I now felt prepared to waltz under a K bullet that hits a stucco brick above the tropical hibiscus.
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1176 4 4
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Don’t shout. Be nice
Cheer up. Sit up
Straight. Don’t play
With your food. Elbows
Off the table. Watch
Your language. Use
Your napkin. Eat the
Crust
Stop fidgeting
Stop scratching
Close your mouth
When you chew
Remember to
Clea
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1176 11 9
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It’ll all make sense when you're sitting on an éclair chaise longue by the morning pool of coffee.
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1176 4 3
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When I awoke she was there again, the woman with the blue scarf. She was standing by the compartment door, gazing out at the passing countryside, the rolling hills of France. I had seen her before, at the market buying flowers, outside a cafe hailing a taxi,…
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1176 0 0
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Bald on top and wavy curls projecting from both sides. He looked at me and his eyes rolled round and round in opposite directions. He asked,
"What did you think of the play, clown hater?"
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1176 6 5
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"MAN S FEET HAVE GROWN/SO BIG THAT HE/FORGETS HIS LITTLENESS"--DON MARQUISA Century of Art by Darryl Price"Man's feet have grown so big that he forgets his littleness."--Don Marquis Everything in this chummy little place talks to your face without stopping to…
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1176 0 0
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Azure lifted her head up – her heart racing – and she closed her eyes focusing her mind.
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1176 2 1
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I had a dream, I remember, where I am in this painting, Luncheon on the Grass. My dress was thrown off and the picnic basket, filled with bread and fruit, is spilled out upon it, and I am sitting nude on my underclothing, with two gentlemen fully dresse
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1176 2 0
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It's eight fifteen in the morning, my favorite time to call, and a guy named Ernie DeCampo answers the door in his work pants and a t-shirt. “Good morning, Mr.De Campo,” I say. “Do you have any fireworks in your home?” …
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1176 5 5
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(I would cite here “corpse plumbers”, but I fear being misconstrued.)
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1176 1 0
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I can't tell a cigarette from a cheese sandwich as I stare vacantly into the synthetic sunshine of my laptop.
Jump up a few lines to add a comma to show the possession of clocks
they do belong to people after all.
I sip my coffee from a novelty mug, ho
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1176 1 1
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. . . making a little winter-love, in a dark corner.
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1176 2 0
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“I believe it is some form of primitive recreation with a board and wheels,” the one and a half eyed orange blob said with an Australian accent.
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1175 1 1
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As it was, she was on a mission to get back and either close the chapter or re- open it on her former lover. Something was curiously drawing her to him. She was frank with the man on the plane. He understood. When they deplaned on the tarmack in a snowsto
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1175 2 1
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She was a rich widow who lived down the street.
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1175 0 0
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Buy random DNA on the open market and drive a poisoned stake into the heart of darkness.
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1175 3 4
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...the room was filled
with a brightness
and a breeze,
making you think
you were up in
the clouds.
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1175 2 1
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I remember the first time you made love to me. It appears I was one of the lucky ones … it wasn’t in a car, it wasn’t in your Dad’s boat, underwater, or any other weird place you've written about. It was actually in your bedroom … in a bed!
And how
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1175 4 2
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Maria Monsanto, the curator of Francesco Martinelli's Atmospheres show, stood in the middle of the third-floor gallery.
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1174 3 2
|
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1174 3 2
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My memory is like tracks in the snow. My memory is cookie dough. My memory is dirty tube socks.
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1174 0 0
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On the way back from New Jersey this afternoon, my dad kept pressing “seek” on the radio dial so he could find WBLS, which we listened to last night, also on our way back from New Jersey. I was driving last night because I wanted to and because I think my dad…
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1174 2 0
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My cell phone shakes; it’s my father’s voice calling my name - so far away - with long distance crackle and panic on the line.
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1174 1 1
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After our visit to Phoenix and following our inspection of the Grand Canyon, our seminary octet continued its twelve-thousand mile sojourn across the country as a quintet.
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1174 1 1
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My dog Alfie and I would get in my van and go out at midnight for a doughnut. Or an éclair. A French cruller, to be exact. Sometimes we would get Blondie's Pizza on Telegraph Avenue near the Berkeley campus, if it got to be too lonely and restless at nigh
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