Harold Brodkey

“He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy.”


Harold Brodkey, First Love and Other Sorrows: Stories
tags: growth, love, waiting
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First Love and Other Sorrows: Stories First Love and Other Sorrows: Stories by Harold Brodkey
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