Good practice, everyone," Rusty said at last. "Light on the actual learning, heavy on the emotional catharsis, and thanks to Jared I think I need a rabies shot, but them's the breaks.
I don't want to boss anyone and I don't want to be bossed.
What is more basic than the need to be known? It is the entirety of intimacy, the elixir of love, this knowing.
The compelling thing about making art - or making anything, I suppose - is the moment when the vaporous, insubstantial idea becomes a solid there, a thing, a substance in a world of substances.
He looks sad. Or maybe that's just how he looks when he isn't doing something else with his face.
I am suddenly comsumed by nostalgia for the little girl who was me, who loved the fields and believed in God, who spent winter days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew and sucking menthol cough drops, who could keep a secret.
. . . all of our laments could not add a single second to her life, not one additional beat of the heart, nor a breath.
Things come suitable to the time.
I went from my mother to my wife. And to this day, I can't bear to be alone.
I was very protective of my father and I didn't like these people who hung around outside all day. They creeped me out.
Why don't we just get our population healthier so we don't need medical care?