Louise was an urbanite, she preferred the gut-thrilling sound of an emergency siren slicing through the night to the noise of country birds at dawn. Pub brawls, rackety roadworks, mugged tourists, the badlands on a Saturday night - they all made sens...
Lady Clio’s father claimed her pale silvery hair was her greatest asset…or perhaps his greatest asset, considering he had the duty to see her wed to some poor unsuspecting fool. ... According to the Church, the color of a woman’s hair bespoke h...
Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited value. The facts are, after all, only the facts, and the yearning passionate part of you will not be met there. That is why reading ourselves as a fiction as well as fact is so ...
How do you... we... you know, pollinate?" "The male produces pollen on his hands and when two faeries decide to pollinate, the male reaches into the female's blossom and lets the pollen mix. It's a somewhat delicate process." "Doesn't sound very roma...
We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms ...
You see, mzungus make these programmes because in their countries they know that everything will work correctly. And when they come to Uganda they still make their programmes but they forget that things don't work here like they do when they are at h...
There are seasons in our lives when we stand emotionally vulnerable, naked, affronted, without hope and broken. What of these dark difficult times? It’s in these moments of deep humility and brokenness that exposes us for who we are. Adversity is a...
When it's summer, people sit a lot. Or lie. Lie in the sense of recumbency. A good heavy book holds you down. It's an anchor that keeps you from getting up and having another gin and tonic. Many a person has been saved from summer alcoholism, not to ...
Certain things are extremely difficult to understand, such as the concept of unconditional love, perhaps it is due to mislead thoughts about God’s love for us. Assuming that we can say or do certain things and suddenly lose this love and approval. ...
His own true hidden reality that he had desired to know grew palpable, recognizable. It seemed to him just this: a great, glad, abounding hope that he had saved his brother; too expansive to be contained by the limited form of a sole man, it yearned ...
And I realized that some things just don't work that way. Life isn't a fairy tail. And the person you fall in love with doesn't always love you back. But that's ok, because at the very least it makes you stronger. And brings you to a place where you ...
Lovecraft says he knows about tentacles but that motherfucker never bedded a girl from West Chester and survived She was a toothache that one and she tasted like crack the best thing about her was if I was ever hungry I could always make a meal out o...
I had thought about forgiveness more and more...I knew it wasn't a light that could be switched on in an instant-it grew day by day, week by week, month by month-but something was changing inside me now during the hours when I sat alone and tried to ...
Of course, we in the West like to pat ourselves on the back and say we're more tolerant, and we are--but tolerance is not the same thing as acceptance. It just means, "We think you're crazy and going to hell, but we won't kill you for it--we'll you. ...
She had her own barometer for knowing when a man was getting too close: as soon as he felt comfortable enough to help himself to something in her refrigerator, he was history. ... Filching leftover was simply too domestic for her to stomach. A man mi...
Aw, come on, admit it—you feel like Cinderella, don’t you?” “No, Darren, I don’t. And do you know why?” “No, sugar, you tell me why.” “Because I’m a man. I’ve got a big fat one and I like to fuck other guys.” Darren was laughi...
Early youth is a baffling time. The present moment is nice but it does not last. Living in it is like waiting in a junction town for the morning limited; the junction may be interesting but some day you will have to leave it and you do not know where...
It starts innocently. Casually. You turn up at the annual spring fair full of beans, help with the raffle tickets (because the pretty red-haired music teacher asks you to) and win a bottle of whiskey (all school raffles are fixed), and, before you kn...
All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not...
I write because I am alone and move through the world alone. No one will know what has passed through me... I write because there are stories that people have forgotten to tell, because I am a woman trying to stand up in my life... I write out of hur...
I had a dream about you. I was a painter, and you were a nude banana. You wanted me to paint you in a still life, and I asked you to put some peels on. Your nudity made me feel naked as a person. Also having no clothes on made me feel naked, and that...
