Once upon a time, son, they used to laugh with their hearts and laugh with their eyes; but now they only laugh with their teeth, while their ice-block-cold eyes search behind my shadow. There was a time indeed they used to shake hands with their hear...
How is it that we can punish women who are paid by politicians yet allow freedom and forgiveness to the politicians who pay them? The irony of the situation is that if we allow Sptizer’s deep pockets to buy his way back into our homes and hearts, t...
Every actor has their own process. For me, I really need to stay in the pocket. So, if I'm on set and I'm in character, I'm not thinking like a producer. If I'm on set and I'm not in character, wardrobe and make-up, and I'm just coming on set for the...
I look for a sense of reality with everything I did. I didn't work in a studio, I didn't light anything. I found a way of working which pleased me because I didn't have to frighten people with heavy equipment. It was that little black box and me and ...
I work on my novels wherever I have a PC, and I have four or five places around the world where I do have a PC. These days you can just slip a little flash drive into your top pocket, fly for 12 hours, come to another place, plug it into a computer a...
I have occasionally - if ever I do interviews that are difficult or nerve-wracking - I take my wife's dog tags and have them in my pocket because it's a very quick way to realize that what I'm doing is not that important. It's not really worth gettin...
A few years back, they jacked David Copperfield in West Palm Beach, for Chrissake. Yes, it's funny: "Yo, empty your pockets," and he pulls out a bunny rabbit. But it's also depressing. If someone who can make himself disappear isn't safe, who is?
I guess you're coming as my date now." Simon shoved the phone into his pocket. "I'm secure enough in my masculinity to accept that," said Jordan. "We better get you something nice to wear, though," he called as Simon headed back into his room. "I wan...
Small, red, and upright he waited, gripping his new bookbag tight in one hand and touching a lucky penny inside his coat pocket with the other, while the first snows of winter floated down on his eyelashes and covered the branches around him and sile...
Her cold, dead body was as stiff as a mannequin, but that didn’t stop me from asking her to dance. I was confident that even as a corpse she’d still have more fluidity on the dance floor than the cup of coffee I’d just frozen and stuffed in my ...
Outside, it feels like there is less standing between the Creator and us. There is a lingering visceral connection we can hear and see and smell, reminders of the bond between Creator and creation, like the mountain sage crushed up in the pocket of t...
A glass poured to air for the one who sits with us unseen; the patron and protector, the Crooked Warden, the Father of Necessary Pretexts. Thanks for deep pockets poorly guarded. Thanks for watchmen asleep at their posts. Thanks for the city to nurtu...
One of the fundamental axioms of masculine self-regard is that the tools and appurtenances of a man's life must be containable within the pockets of his jacket and pants. Wallet, keys, gum, show or ball game tickets, Kleenex, condoms, cell phone, may...
Argumentation is a human enterprise that is embedded in a larger social and psychological context. This context includes (1) the total psyches of the two persons engaged in dialogue, (2) the relationship between the two persons, (3) the immediate sit...
When her mother combed Harriet's hair, she said that the woods were disgustingly muddy and mosquito-ridden. During her history unit on pioneers, her father bashfully admitted that he couldn't pitch a tent, barbeque, or fight off bears in a forest. Th...
I woan you go back to that boy--not until you give me one ." A sweet kiss. Then he reached forward, unlacing the ribbon from my hair. "What are you doing?" I murmured. "Souvenir." He put it in his pocket, and for some reason that struck me as the sex...
So what are you doing around here?" I ask, feeling all jittery, but this time it's in a good way. "Oh, I was just in the area." he says vaguely. "I thought I'd take Welly for a walk..." He trails off and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Those butterf...
Queer, how her own desperate need of light seemed to throw such brilliance over the affairs of the members of her family. She carried her need like a many-batteried pocket spotlight, illuminating emotional corners in other people, but she walked in d...
The California I knew, old rancho California, is gone. It just doesn't exist, except maybe in little pockets. I lived on the edge of the Mojave Desert, an area that used to be farm country. There were all these fresh-produce stands with avocados and ...
My parents would frisk me before family events. Before weddings, funerals, bar mitzvahs, and what have you. Because if they didn't, then the book would be hidden inside some pocket or other and as soon as whatever it was got under way I'd be found in...
He couldn’t say the words, had spent too long in Silence, but he’d learned other ways to speak. Taking the paperweight she’d knocked off her desk out of his pocket, he put it in her hands. “It’s fixed. As long as you don’t mind more than ...
