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Youthexpand_moreI could throw one of these rocks at the moon and watch it fall.
We say America you are magnificent and we meant we are heartbroken.
“You could come, too! No one’s forcing you to go to fucking China.”
I taste on my tongue a gunshot of synapses warm and light like butter
The boy in the woods was a secret. My secret. My first real secret.
Sometimes I wonder if he—my father—looks back on that moment.
He says the word robbery and you don’t know if he’s asking or telling.
I put my hand on my stomach and had an image of the melting snowman.
Takis brought down the demons that would pursue him the rest of his life.
If he wanted to kiss Sophie tonight, he probably shouldn’t steal from her.
“This is no vacation,” I told friends and reluctant donors.
Lean close and kiss each other: dig down as far as down goes.
There was one lease Homer Young wanted above all others.
the woman wiped her hands on her apron saying “lord these children”
That is a building. That is a tree. That is a yellow car. That is a curb.
He spoke of the river’s origins as though telling of the birth of a god.
“It’s so unfair being accused of doing something you didn’t do.”
The best writers talk a story the way they put it down on the page.
What can be done to interest a younger audience in fiction?
There was a special kind of power in playing the father of God.
Be honest. Writing is about honesty, and articulating that honesty.
Be honest. Writing is about honesty, and articulating that honesty.
That’s how a lifetime passes, closing the wound, a million stitches.
When I speak and wave my arms, it sniffs the air and watches me.
I felt that Teddy occupied a range below acceptability, even among boys.
Eleanor opened the door to Nick’s bedroom and felt breathless with fury.
I began to look for evidence of my father’s duplicity in his body.
It wasn’t me he was aiming at; he was using me to make my mom unhappy.
“Just sex,” I say, and the old feeling is back, the creeping nausea.
He sobbed; he said he would go to therapy, stop drinking.
