Dad used to make Mom’s eyes shine; now he makes her grind her teeth. I don’t know why.
The sky’s always falling. Always. You’ll see. People have no idea.
I’m only two hours thrity-seven minutes and thirteen seconds younger than Jude, but she always makes me feel like I’m her little brother.
Who knows if she even believed in her bible at all or if she just preferred a world where hope and creativity and faith trump reason?
It’s like a hand at your throat all the time, isn’t it? Nothing’s inevitable anymore. Not the next heartbeat, not anything.
I don’t know how this can be but it can: A painting is both exactly rhe same and entirely different every single time you look at it.
His eyes have become gentle. I’m swimming in them.
Oscore is my favorite model,” he says. “He has a very strange face. I don’t know if you notice. God was very drunk when he made him. A little bit of this. A little bit of that. Brown eye. Green eye. Crooked nose, crooked mouth. Lunatic smile. Chipped tooth. Scar here, scar there. It is a puzzle.
I’d rather sit next to Brian for two hours in a dark theater than have a wall painting party with Jackson Pollock.
I liked love safe between the covers of my novel.
That counselor said ghosts – she used finger quotes around the word – are often manifestations of a guilty conscience. Check. Or sometimes of a deep inner longing. Check. She said the heart overcomes mind. Hope or fear overcomes reason.
Until it’s not clear if he’s making the sculpture or if the sculpture is making him.
The coolest guys aren’t afraid to be feminists.
A lo mejor estamos siempre acumulando nuevos yoes. Sumando personalidades a medida que tomamos decisiones, buenas y malas, que metemos la pata o progresamos, que perdemos la cabeza y recuperamos el sentido, que nos hundimos, nos enamoramos, lloramos a un ser querido, crecemos, nos apartamos del mundo o lo agarramos por los cuernos, a medida que creamos cosas y las destruimos.
We are all broken. I mean, aren’t we now? I am. The whole wide world is.
Hey maybe you have Alice in Wonderland Syndrome!
Do not look so happy. I tell you ahead of time. All my students despise me.
He smiles, but I can see his inside face nod it isn’t smiling at all.
I need my skull in one piece. Crushing it would be like taking a wrecking ball to some secret museum before anyone ever got to see what’s inside it.
How can you judge a fella until you picnic with him?” She opens her arms as if to embrace the whole world. “Pack a basket, pick a spot, and go. Simple as that.