It is at night when sleep like the outgoing sea leaves you dry and cold and the morning light arrives like a small punishment.
One song bled into another and they remained locked together, neither willing to break the intimacy that surrounded them, concealing them in the small space the two occupied.
I could enjoy the simple life with a small living quarters, a scratched album of Johnny Cash and a Box of Twinkies
To be happy a woman had to think hard, during long silent hours, about how to make each small step forward.
Let’s call my mood melancholy; let’s call it remembrance. Or maybe let’s call it longing. Yes, let’s call it longing instead.
I hung a picture of him above my bed and learned by hand the internal workings of the female combustion engine.
It's ironic, since they're supposed to be immortal, but vampires are kind of like small businesses: half of them go down within their first year
Caring about someone isn't complicated. It isn't easy. But it isn't complicated, either. Kinda like lifting the engine block out of a car.
Belief, he says. Belief shifts. People start out believing in the god and end up believing in the structure.
... a man needs no camel to ride to hell, yea, nor horse, nor mule; a man may ride into hell on his tongue...
Gods don't like people not doing much work. People who aren't busy all the time might start to think.
But then, he thought, most politicians are small and shabby, the sort of people who have been bullied at school. That's why they become politicians.
Was this the big one or was this the small tremor, the warning? Does it get better - does the sensation of being in a dream underwater go away?
She encouraged herself to see her very small presence in the world as a good thing, a power, something that a hero might possess.
Her searches after knowledge were arbitrary and without context. It was as if she were shining a small flashlight of curiosity into the dark room of the world.
Lost, so small amid that dark, hands grown cold, body image fading down corridors of television sky.
...even my work, the largest of the pots and pans I'd placed under my life's leaking ceiling, had become to small to contain my misery.
The joy of small that makes life large.
One thing I’ve learnt about humans: you can’t judge their strength by the size of their actions, but by the devotion of an act, no matter how small.
Do you see? The story I have to tell is so small, of the people who stayed when everyone else fled.
The small hopes and plans and pleasures of children should be tenderly respected by grown-up people, and never rudely thwarted or ridiculed.
