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Your life is your own and then suddenly it belongs to someone else.

He shot a spear into a boom timber and pulled the boat to it.

The canary-yellow sweater she knit while pregnant with me thawed first.

Hello, women rising up against toxic men. I salute you. And I apologize.

Pummel nests from limbs and drown the furred things in their dens.

I’ve got other plans. And they don’t center on ringnecks.

A dangerous heat came from him, the heat of some interior decay.

Hemingway’s Royal typewriter sat atop a volume of Who’s Who.

I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled hair, and a hideous grin.

The Morgan nosed her for another carrot. She petted his neck. She had loved to canter.

Lee has taken on several of the great novelists of the past century.

“Well, it’s a dark world, Suzanne. She’s old enough to know that.”

That piece of flesh you’re with is a high school student, a minor.

I have placed my thoughts for you in a nest of copper shavings.

The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen has become the saddest.

Jack picked me up in a car with a greasy-potato sex smell.

They found her where such girls are found. A Manhattan street.

He was caught. Of course he was caught. He was always caught.

It dawned on me my passion was not for her but for the making-up.

I walk over to her for what seems to be an eternity. “May I have this dance?”

He could not stop marveling at the velvet quality of
her skin.

The palm’s outline shimmied in the sunlight against the aqua curtain.

I saw the man for the first time in Budapest on the Széchenyi Bridge.

Rays burst from behind the mountain, sweep the broad beach.

This kind of heart-wrenching love was different from all the others.

Those are the horses you win on, the ones that want to kill you.

Didn’t you think I’d come after you? Don’t you want to be with me?

I’m not the girl for anyone. I can’t just go be a wife.

Eliza Frye

What’s wrong with easy? I mean, who wants sex to be hard work?