‘Who are you anyway?’ said Jeremy.
His smile fading, my father shrugged.
’Who are you?’
My father shrugged again.
“In the American Society” by Gish Jen (1987)
Tag: lit quote
Joseph was a compact, deliberate boy, and his straight black hair fell to his shoulders. He wore his uniform in a way that seemed gentlemanly but at the same time casual. He was both kind and beautiful, and they loved him.
“Buttony” by Fiona McFarlane
Joseph was a compact, deliberate boy, and his straight black hair fell to his shoulders. He wore his uniform in a way that seemed gentlemanly but at the same time casual. He was both kind and beautiful, and they loved him.
“Buttony” by Fiona McFarlane
And even now it was as if a tectonic force had taken hold of Europe and, using its fingernails, had lifted it up and tilted it, politically, causing a heavy mudslide in the direction of old illusions, old dreams of purity and cruelty.
“Oktober” by Martin Amis (2015)
And even now it was as if a tectonic force had taken hold of Europe and, using its fingernails, had lifted it up and tilted it, politically, causing a heavy mudslide in the direction of old illusions, old dreams of purity and cruelty.
“Oktober” by Martin Amis (2015)
And they were coming here, the refugees, in the eye of a geohistorical convergence–themselves and their exodus on the one hand, and, on the other, Al Qaeda and Al Shabab and Boko Haram and the Taliban and Sinai Province and ISIS.
“Oktober” by Martin Amis (2015)
And they were coming here, the refugees, in the eye of a geohistorical convergence–themselves and their exodus on the one hand, and, on the other, Al Qaeda and Al Shabab and Boko Haram and the Taliban and Sinai Province and ISIS.
“Oktober” by Martin Amis (2015)
Maybe she wasn’t so stupid, naïve. But, then, why had she raised her hand? Why was she waving at the men with guns climbing through the wall? Did she actually think they were there to help? Or could it be that Sue was offering herself, at last making the sacrifice she’d been put on earth to make?
Maybe she wasn’t so stupid, naïve. But, then, why had she raised her hand? Why was she waving at the men with guns climbing through the wall? Did she actually think they were there to help? Or could it be that Sue was offering herself, at last making the sacrifice she’d been put on earth to make?
They were not entirely happy. The young man and his companion often went apart, and appeared to weep. I saw no cause for their unhappiness; but I was deeply affected by it. If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched.
Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley