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Once I took it in my mouth, I had to admit pity tastes like sandwiches.

Why don’t we just get drunk and walk down the middle of Fifth Avenue.

Art is a way for the mind to master the body, even if it is not one’s own.

Maybe it’s a Thursday, & I’m coming home to make you dinner.

To me, the very point of cooking is to wildly praise what’s wild.

“I’m sorry,” I wrote, “but I have to go back to the bookstore.” My only plan was to plead for my old job back. To my surprise, it worked. The law was safe; the law was my father. I decided to go to law school.

Every life is an imperfect continuation of another.

A heart takes precautions, withholds warmth, but it’s mistaken.

James Salter

James Salter

I was once a rider of mastodons, a waitress showing skin.

I eat what’s in front of me, as all great men do. Some wouldn’t, but I do.

Her sly smile was a vicious remnant of her life before Real Life began.

Burly Viking raiders are standing in the coffee line, sharing pickles.

When he asks me if I’m ready, I don’t even know what he means.

Well, back home has really changed, you won’t get that same bammy.

A question will render in a throat before blowing out its socket.

Salt lick inquest skill-step stalks. All flit, vanish: footfall’s fault.

When I was born I saw death devour the birth of something.

Jenifer Browne Lawrence

Beggars know to emerge when you’ve more than enough to give.

I read cookbooks the way I do poetry, with a willingness to be transported.

“Make it look like you’re working on a nearby shelf,” Aunt Mary whispered.

The only person I’d seen naked was my mother the night she died.

Now I’m no longer the buzzards glooming over the mango tree.

Teddy, the new sous chef, is on fire again. It’s the second time in a week. I make a silent promise to myself never to have sex on a beach, not even with Ryan Gosling.

Oklahoma, a state shaped like a pot, probably some gruel inside.

My sister’s fever wasn’t gone at all, but dazzling—suspended over us.

Screaming, the children flew toward the trees in their saucers.

Mark looked down at the fortune cookie as if it were a summons.