“But for now Anders can still make time. Time for the shadows to lengthen on the grass, time for the tethered dog to bark at the flying ball, time for the boy in right field to smack his sweat-blackened mit and softly chant, They is, they is, they is.” From Bullet in the Brain, in The Night in Question by Tobias Wolff © 1997
“It is a gift we humans have, to hold on to beauty felt in a moment for a lifetime.”Tolstoy and the Purple Chair by Nina Sankovitch © 2011. Available at Amazon.
“Braggioni is cruel to everyone, with a kind of specialized insolence, but he is so vain of his talents, and so sensitive to slights, it would require a cruelty and vanity greater than his own to lay a finger on the vast cureless wound of his self-esteem.” Flowering Judas and Other Stories by Katherine Anne Porter © 1930
“She was a beautiful baby. She blew shining bubbles of sound.” I Stand Here Ironing by Tillie Olson © 1956
“We crunched in socks and sandals across a rim of crisped black seaweed and bone and sea-washed plastic: the tide was in, the long grey line of the waves curled and sucked at the cramped remainder of the beach, a narrow strip of pebbles.” From The Eggy Stone, in Sunstroke and Other Stories by Tessa Hadley © 2007
“My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom.” Araby by James Joyce © 1914.
“And then, opening her eyes, how fresh, how like frilled linen clean from a laundry laid in wicker trays, the roses looked; and dark and prim the red carnations, holding their heads up; and all the sweet peas spreading in their bowls, tinged violet, snow white, pale – as if it were the evening and girls in muslin frocks came out to pick sweet peas and roses after the superb summer’s day, with its almost blue-black sky, its delphiniums, its carnations, its arum lilies, was over; and it was the moment between six and seven when every flower – roses, carnations, irises, lilac, glows; white, violet, red, deep orange; every flower seems to burn by itself, softly, purely in the misty beds; and how she loved the grey white moths spinning in and out, over the cherry pie, over the evening primroses!” Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf © 1925
“Is there one day of the year when the tilt of the earth, its distance from the sun, causes light to stream from every direction?” Who Occupies This House? by Kathleen Hill © 2010 To read our Q & A with Kathleen, please CLICK HERE.
“Well, I want to tell her, who is not ashamed of their bottom. If not their bottom their thighs, or their breasts or their wobbly female bellies, who among us is perfect, Pauline.” Pie Dance from Rough Translations by Molly Giles © 1985
“But she went on feeling the soft, sheeny luxurious things – with both hands now, holding them up to see them glisten, and to feel them glide serpent-like through her fingers.” A Pair of Silk Stockings by Kate Chopin © 1896