A nonhuman animal had better have a good lawyer. In 1508, Bartholomé Chassenée earned fame and fortune for his eloquent representation of the rats of his French province. These rats had been charged with destroying the barley crop and also with ign...
I didn't want a world in which I had to choose between blind human babies and tortured monkey ones. To be frank, that's the sort of choice I expect science to protect me from, not give me.
But no one is easier to delude than a parent; they see only what they wish to see.
Maybe anosognosia, the inability to see your own disability, is the human condition and I'm the only one who doesn't suffer from it.
Every girl’s dream, if she can’t have a vampire.
who knows you better than your own brother?
Grandma Donna passed the oyster stuffing and asked my father straight out what he was working on, it being so obvious his thoughts were not with us. She meant it as a reprimand. He was the only one at the table who didn't know this, or else he was ig...
An "attack on SeaWorld" might mean a bomb, or it might mean graffiti and glitter and a cream pie in the face. The government doesn't always seem to distinguish between the two.
I wonder sometimes if I’m the only one spending my life making the same mistake over and over again or if that’s simply human. Do we all tend toward a single besetting ruin?
Language does this to our memories— simplifies, solidifies, codifies, mummifies. An oft -told story is like a photograph in a family album; eventually, it replaces the moment it was meant to capture.
The happening and telling are very different things. This doesn’t mean that the story isn’t true, only that I honestly don’t know anymore if I really remember it or only remember how to tell it. Language does this to our memories, simplifies, s...
So many problems, however infinitely varied they first appear, turn out to be matters of money. I can't tell you how much this offends me.
We are so excited that, in the strangely illuminating phrase my mother favours, we’re completely beside ourselves.
There was no point in telling my father. He'd never let me quit after only one day. He couldn't help me and he'd make some terrible blunder if he tried. Parents are too innocent for the Boschian landscapes of middle school.
Like they say, you never know a person till you’ve done time with them.
I am the daughter of a psychologist. I know that the thing ostensibly being studied is rarely the thing being studied. (We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves, p. 99)
There's no data to suggest that I can make you love me whatever I do.
You can’t imagine the white-hot fury someone who can’t sleep has toward the beautiful dreamer beside him.
