patry 🇵🇸🇨🇩🇸&#x1f’s Reviews > The Beauty of the Husband: A Fictional Essay in 29 Tangos > Status Update

“To tell a story by not telling it—dear shadow, I wrote this slowly.Her starts!My ends.But it all comes roundto a blue June moonand a sullied night as poets say.Some tangos pretend to be about women but look at this.Who is it you seereflected smallin each of her tears.
Watch me fold this page now so you think it is you.”

“After all the heart is not a small stoneto be rolled this way and that.The mind is not a boxto be shut fast.And yet it is!It is!
Well life has some risks. Love is one. Terrible risks.”

“I overlooked one thing.That the beautiful when I encountered it would turn out to beprior—inside my own heart,already eaten.Not out there with purposiveness, with temples, with God.Inside. He was already me.Condition of me.”

“But words
are a strange docile wheat are they not, they bendto the ground.”

"The only thing that can destroy us now is your cowardice.

Tests inlaid with flattery.

You're the only person I'm afraid of.

Intricate with sexual charm.

If you were on a whim to come and soothe me now I would be happy.

And at the heart of it all,the lure that makes war an addiction for some people—that hot bacon smell of pure contradiction.

I hand you my fate. But don't take pity. And don't come back.”

“You see me, you see my life, see what I live on—is that all I want?No. I want to make you see time.How shadows cross a wall and go—
by dividing pure movement into minutes, hours, years, we raisethe psuedo-problem of an underlying “self” whose successive statesthese are supposed to be. Otho or not.
”

“XXIV. AND KNEELING AT THE EDGE OF THE TRANSPARENT SEA I SHALL SHAPE FOR MYSELF A NEW HEART FROM SALT AND MUD”

“a sort of delphic Abstraction a beautiful thing made more     beautiful by being reflected and put in a Mist
JOHN KEATS,note on his copy of Paradise Lost, 1.321
[there is a faint mark after beautiful read by one editor as a dash, by another as a slip of the pen, while a third does not print it]”

“his head in her lap and his virtue coursing through her
as if they were one flesh.Husband and wife may erase a boundary.Creating a white page.”

“Wind picks up and holes blow sideways, holoids now.

In a letter both reader and writer discover an ideal image of themselves, short blinding passages are all it takes.”