I hate people,” he said, wiping the urchin’s face with the rag. “Animals are more noble. Look at this boy. He’s poor and desperate, but can they see it? Can they pity him? No. They should embrace him. They should save their kicks and blows for the bastards who keep them so poor, who set them on each other like dogs.
My heart felt like a balloon that was filling too full, and I panicked. I might get the bends, the way scuba divers did when they surfaced too fast.
That philosopher who said we think, therefore we are, should have spent an hour in the maternity ward of Waite Memorial Hospital. He’d have had to change his whole philosophy. The.
We tried not to be in the same room at the same time when Starr was home, we set the air on fire between us.
Never let a man stay the night,” she told me. “Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.
There was power in me now, where there had been none.
I was the center of my own universe it was the stars that were moving, rearranging themselves around new, and I liked the way he looked at me l. Who had ever looked at me, who had ever noticed me? If this was evil, let God change my mind.
Those who love poetry, even my unreadable foreign brand, are a tender breed.
Just a beginner, but he learned so fast. Everything came so damn easy to him. Not true. The hard things cam easy. But the easy things he found impossibly hard.
My mother was not herself in the time of the Santa Anas. I was twelve years old and I was afraid for her.
Only in a show like this could you see the complete picture, stack the pieces up, hold them to the light, see how it all fit together. It made me hopeful, like someday my life would make sense too, if I could just hold all the pieces together at the same time. We.
She wished Michael had had a grandfather like this guy Morty, someone to tell him, “It’s a rotten deal, the house always wins. Just sit at the table and play for all you’re worth.” Instead of one who showed him how to die.
She yearned to call him, but hated the sound of the phone ringing, ringing, knowing that he might be standing right there, not picking up, knowing it was her.
Her gut ached, as if love was being dug out of her with a dull knife.
Meredith’s father, the composer, who shot himself in this house. Came all the way from Vienna to shoot himself in LA. Escaped the Nazis but not himself.
He was obsessed with obituaries. She’d never read them before, he couldn’t believe it, to him it was like someone who’d never read the funnies... Michael always wanted to know what they died of- accidental gunshot wounds, overdose, cancer. ‘Was it suicide?’ That’s what he really wanted to know.
I learned, whatever you hung from my earlobes or out on my back, I was insoluble, like same in water. Stir me up, I always rest on the bottom.
She was a beautiful woman dragging a crippled foot and I was that foot.
Don’t tell me how you hate your new foster home. If they’re not beating you, consider yourself lucky.
Michael hated this, it was the worst thing he could imagine, disappearing into the mass- he didn’t know how to submerge himself, he was the puzzle piece that fit nowhere.