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But we never know, do we? Life turns on a dime.
And isn’t that what A+ writing is supposed to do? Evoke a response?
Life turns on a dime.
I had not yet entered the fog of unreality that would soon swallow me, but the first tendrils were seeping around me, and I felt them.
Do I know what people say? Sure. I shrug it off. What else can you do? Stop people from talking? You might as well try to stop the wind from blowing.’
‘Making the world a better place is important, but so is being able to get to the john under your own power.’
Texas was going to mess with me.
‘Bullshit,’ I said. ‘A good life is never wasted. Could it have been better? Yes. Can I make that happen? Based on yesterday, maybe
When all else fails, give up and go to the library.
That was a good feeling to go on, so I walked away from them, giving myself the old advice as I went: don’t look back, never look back. How often do people tell themselves that after an experience that is exceptionally good (or exceptionally bad)?
In both fiction and nonfiction, there’s only one question and one answer. What happened? the reader asks. This is what happened, the writer responds. This . . . and this . . . and this, too. Keep it simple. It’s the only sure way home.
Sometimes life coughs up coincidences no writer of fiction would dare copy.
In America, where surface has always passed for substance, people always believe guys like Frank Dunning.
Explanations are such cheap poetry.
I heard a psychology prof opine that humans actually do possess a sixth sense. He called it hunch-think, and said it was most well developed in mystics and outlaws.
Bomb,
Events are flimsy, I tell you, they are houses of cards, and by approaching Oswald – let alone trying to warn him off a crime which he had not yet even conceived – I would be giving away my only advantage. The butterfly would spread its wings, and Oswald’s course would change.
It was no wonder it took me almost two months to think of this; life’s simplest answers are often the easiest to overlook.
But stupidity is one of two things we see most clearly in retrospect. The other is missed chances.
I told him he was certainly welcome to his opinion; like assholes, everybody had one.
Why do people do that to gifted people? Is it jealousy? Fear? Both, maybe.
But it was more than a smile; his face was transformed with the happiness that’s reserved for those who are finally allowed to reach all the way up.
‘Life is too sweet to give up without a fight, don’t you think?’
Who can find a virtuous woman? the proverb asks. For her price is above rubies. She seeketh wool and flax and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants’ ships, that bringeth food from afar.
Home is watching the moon rise over the open, sleeping land and having someone you can call to the window, so you can look together. Home is where you dance with others, and dancing is life.
‘Twenty-seven-oh-six. It used to be Slider
