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It seemed that someone had died, but really it was part of us.

A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t think I could ever write about it.

It was to keep us impartial and to protect us from threats and bribes.

Sarah let herself be guided by her desire, inescapable and true.

Carol Edgarian

Of the sixteen elephants, one—a lady—completely took my heart.

I found it impossible to forget that we lived in a poor country.

The thumbnail spoke directly to the most excitable parts of himself.

“Dorm whores” his roommate calls them. They come for the booze.

He finds the note taped to the lid of the toilet: “There’s someone else.”

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

Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes.

He had dreamed of being a front-runner, someone who changed lives.

Her hips, her pelvis, broke free of concerns. His eyes hovered.

“Hey, babe,” he said, breathing into the phone like a sex maniac.

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

This is the worst moment of her life, maybe of anybody’s life, ever.

We have mysterious inclinations. No one can explain it to us.

He’d been lost and tripping vividly on some speckled acid for days.

In a job like that you see the dirty work of Empire at close quarters.

When I went to Scotland for a wedding, I didn't plan on firing a gun.

The most arcane sexual practices could arouse me from my torpor.

He was living like a coyote, out on the margins. But then a letter came.

All my life, I’d been shy, and I wasn’t about to change that.

In high school I walked around with a beat-up copy of Kafka’s stories.

Out by the road was her son standing without a stitch of clothing.

He felt desperate for the rains, mosquitoes be damned.

Since the accident she lost her hold on the world and never got it back.

Grandma was forced to break her vow of silence only three times.

She imagines his clothes on the floor, his arms wrapped around her waist.