I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.
Sometimes I think that if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn. Not that I wouldn't love to have a final roll in the hay - I am a man yet, and something never die - but the thought of those sweet kernels bursting between my teeth sure sets my mouth to watering. It's fantasy, I know that. Neither will happen. I just like to weight the options, as though I were standing in front of Solomon: a final roll in the hay or an ear of corn. What a wonderful dilemma. Sometimes I substitute an apple for the corn.
Although, pretending not to notice is almost worse than noticing.
...if you expect people to try to do things your way, you're going to have to give some hints as to what that way is.
Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
Sometimes when you get older — and I’m not talking about you, I’m talking generally, because everyone ages differently — things you think on and wish on start to seem real. And then you believe them, and before you know it they’re part of your history, and if someone challenges you on them and says they’re not true — why, then you get offended because you can’t remember the first part. All you know is that you’ve been called a liar.
I cling to my anger with every ounce of humanity left in my ruined body, but it's no use. It slips away, like a wave from shore. I am pondering this sad fact when I realize the blackness of sleep is circling my head. It's been there awhile, biding it's time and growing closer with each revolution. I give up on rage, which at this point has become a formality, and make a mental note to get angry again in the morning. Then I let myself drift, because there's really no fighting it.
i'm afraid to breathe in case i break the spell
Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?
All right. Let's give you something to tell your grandkids about. Or great-grandkids. Or great-great-grandkids." I snort with glee, delirious with excitement. Charlie winks and pours me another finger's worth of whiskey. Then, on second thought, he tips the bottle again. I reach out and grab its neck. "Better not," I say. "Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.
Jacob: I've never seen so much manure. Wade: Baggage stock horses. They pack'em in 27 a car. Jacob: how do you stand the smell? Wade: what smell?
Hey! Shouts Camel. There ain't no woman in the world worth two bottles of whiskey!
I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.
Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?
When did I stop being me?
The thought has cheered me, and I'd like to hang onto that. Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
I am ninety. Or ninety-three. One or the other.
Juliet is one of those rare novels that has it all: lush prose, tightly intertwined parallel narratives, intrigue, and historical detail all set against a backdrop of looming danger. Anne Fortier casts a new light on one of history's greatest stories of passion. I was swept away.
You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.
I think there is just a vein of humanity that really loves animals and really loves to read about them.
I am further back, surrounded on all sides by wailing men, their faces shiny with tears. Uncle Al promised three dollars and a bottle of Canadian whiskey to the man who puts on the best show. You've never seen such grief-- even the dogs were howling.
Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.
I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets.
Gorillas are in danger of being wiped out by the Ebola virus. I feel like we have limited time to get to know them and understand them and they're going to disappear - that's terrifically sad. Wouldn't it be great if we could stop that?
Why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
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