The first prerequisite for fine literature is that the writer must see the language not as a transparent medium for self-expression or the representation of reality, but as a medium one must struggle with to make it do one's bidding.
Thing is, I am not a big fan of hovers. I firmly believe that if man was meant to fly we’d have feathers, rubber bones, or better insurance coverage.
But, here was a curious thing. The more I tried to give up thinking of her, the more I said to myself, 'She's nothing to you', the harder I tried to pluck the idea of her out of my heart, the more she stayed there.
I expected you to look... content, happy even, after your alone time with Sammi, not all mopey and depressed. You didn't screw up, did you? Don't all Kings make love perfectly?
Sammi watched him walk toward her. He walked like a predator, a conqueror. A king who ruled and commanded all. He was sex and sin, decadence and sensuality. He was, simply put, spectacular.
I always wanted to eat with a Negro,” Grandma said. Yeah, well I always wanted to eat with a boney- assed old white woman,” Lula said. “So I guess this works out good.
In the war room, love? What if someone comes in?” I stood and removed his shirt. “Then they’ll have a good story to tell.” “Good?” He adopted the pretense of being offended. “Prove me wrong.
There is, in every event, whether lived or told, always a hole or a gap, often more than one. If we allow ourselves to get caught in it, we find it opening onto a void that, once we have slipped into it, we can never escape.
I wish I had a memory of that first violent shove, the shock of cold air, the sting of oxygen into new lungs. Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
I remembered the last time I put this thing into my eye it was more painful than watching old political speeches while listening to the “Macarena” and having a root canal performed by an angry, clumsy chimp.
Maybee there is no guile here," Deor suggested. "Perhaps it is just a group of dragons who have come together to raid the hold." "The diffirence? if they pretend to cooperate ... they must cooperate to pretend. It would be worse than a guile.
I smiled back, the importance of manners, my mother always said, is inversely related to how inclined one is to use them, or, in other words, sometimes politeness is all that stands between oneself and madness.
Why had I wasted all my time pretending to be someone I wasn't? I was tired, so very, very tired of standing on my own brakes. I felt...right. I felt free.
Wasn't that awesome?" Seth asked. Warren cocked his head, his expression mildly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Kendra--it was pretty cool." "All boys belong in insane asylums," Kendra said.
You make your son out to be to be almost an idiot; well let me tell you something, Mrs Loan, if he were a complete idiot, drooling at the mouth, he'd still be a better person then you.
A woman made of parts is a dangerous thing," Grandma says. "You never know when she'll throw away a piece you may need...
I was a fool. I should have grabbed him when I could have had him all to myself, snatched him up like a ripe mango at the market. But how was I to know that this was what love felt like?
What a relationship looks like on the outside isn't the same as what it's like on the inside. You can be more in love with someone in your mind than with the person you see every day.
Walking away from my desert companions feels like cutting off a limb. How does one say good-bye to an arm? One doesn't, I suppose. One pretends it isn't happening.
Who else but a lover retains the ability to wound the other person with such passion, such precision? And who else but that lover has the capacity to heal what he or she has done?
Lots of times I’m not crazy about the writing, but I keep moving ahead and somehow it gets better. The important thing is to move forward.
