He wanted a father, and for the same reason, he wanted to be a father.
It was always the view of my parents," Emily said, "that hot weather encouraged loose morals among young people.
Above all, she wanted to look as though she had not given the matter a moment's thought, and that would take time.
They were beyond the present, outside time, with no memories and no future. There was nothing but obliterating sensation, thrilling and swelling, and the sound of fabric on fabric and skin on fabric as their limbs slid across each other in this restl...
We go on our hands and knees and crawl our way towards the truth
Waiting. Simply one person doing nothing, over time, while another approached.
A story was a form of telepathy. By means of inking symbols onto a page, she was able to send thoughts and feelings from her mind to her reader's. It was a magical process, so commonplace that no one stopped to wonder at it.
But this first clumsy attempt showed her that the imagination itself was a source of secrets: once she had begun a story, no one could be told. Pretending in words was too tentative, too vulnerable, too embarrassing to let anyone know. Even writing o...
Wasn't writing a kind of soaring, an achievable form of flight, of fancy, of the imagination?
He had never before felt so self-consciously young, nor experienced such appetite, such impatience for the story to begin.
