What went unsaid was that nothing could console me, I had needed a friend so very much.
“Lavande” by Ann Beattie (2008)
Tag: literature
What went unsaid was that nothing could console me, I had needed a friend so very much.
“Lavande” by Ann Beattie (2008)
Did you see that woman and her little boy? Did you see how… I don’t know, how calm they were with each other? God, I loved seeing that. That calm. It makes you want to be a kid again. Of course, I always want that anyway.
“Poor Devil” by Charles Baxter
Did you see that woman and her little boy? Did you see how… I don’t know, how calm they were with each other? God, I loved seeing that. That calm. It makes you want to be a kid again. Of course, I always want that anyway.
“Poor Devil” by Charles Baxter
The air in the living room acquired a poisonous residue from the things we said to each other. I sometimes thought I could discern a malignant green mist, invisible to everyone else, floating just above the coffee table. We excreted malice, the two of us.
“Poor Devil” by Charles Baxter
The air in the living room acquired a poisonous residue from the things we said to each other. I sometimes thought I could discern a malignant green mist, invisible to everyone else, floating just above the coffee table. We excreted malice, the two of us.
“Poor Devil” by Charles Baxter
Well, I’m not interested in being your friend or listening to your troubles, you know, John? Usually I do most of the talking on these calls. And I wouldn’t listen to people tell their troubles all day for any amount of money. That does not strike me as my idea of having a good time. That does not sound like a good time at all to me.
“1-900” by Richard Baucsh (2003)
Well, I’m not interested in being your friend or listening to your troubles, you know, John? Usually I do most of the talking on these calls. And I wouldn’t listen to people tell their troubles all day for any amount of money. That does not strike me as my idea of having a good time. That does not sound like a good time at all to me.
“1-900” by Richard Baucsh (2003)
Spring would come like its own green fire, if only the injured ones could hold on.
“The Hermit’s Story” by Rick Bass (2002)
Spring would come like its own green fire, if only the injured ones could hold on.
“The Hermit’s Story” by Rick Bass (2002)