Category: writing

  • Beautiful Sentences: Denis Johnson

    But I was afraid to make love to her without the conversations and laughter from that false universe playing in our ears, because I didn’t want to get to know her very well, and didn’t want, to be bridging any silences with our eyes. Denis Johnson, Jesus’ Son

  • Beautiful Sentences: Marilynne Robinson

    I think hope is the worst thing in the world. I really do. It makes a fool of you while it lasts. And then when it’s gone, it’s like there’s nothing left of you at all. Marilynne Robinson, Home.

  • Beautiful Sentences: J. Robert Lennon

    The memories this act stirred up were mostly memories of other visits to this cemetery, when her feelings had been more profound. (This is what happens, she supposes, to dramatic events: they create feelings that create other feelings, memories that give way to memories of having them. The older you get, the more life seems…

  • Beautiful Sentences: Denis Johnson

    No wonder he didn’t hear or speak, no wonder he didn’t have anything to do with words. Everything along those lines was used up Denis Johnson, Jesus’ Son.

  • Beautiful Sentences: J. Robert Lennon

    Stories exist to make sense of life. J. Robert Lennon, Familiar.

  • Beautiful Sentences: Denis Johnson

    Looking at her I thought of going out in the fields with my wife back when we were so in love we didn’t know what it was. Denis Johnson, Jesus’ Son.

  • Beautiful sentences: David Bezmogis

    Though he did not want to desecrate his grief, Alec nonetheless said, I just buried my father, I’d like to come up. David Bezmogis, The Free World.

  • Beautiful sentences: Terese Svoboda

    At least we have our own cell to settle in. At least the baby doesn’t die of the shot the way he could have, with all the cell fleas and a flesh wound and no mother. He is used to Sharon more anyway is what I suppose, what with the mother no doubt seeping milk…

  • Beautiful Sentences: Lillian S. Robinson

    But ours is a movement that is only half certain where it is marching, and poetry is more often relegated to the “cultural events,” the entertainment segment of feminist conferences, rallies, and meetings, the thing we drop into when the real political work is over. It needs to be more than that, and I am…