“Loneliness is a crowded room”

“But when you get music and words together, that can be a very powerful thing.”

“How long does a building stand before it falls?How long does a contract last? How long will brothersshare the inheritance before they quarrel?How long does hatred, for that matter, last?Time after time the river has risen and flooded.The insect leaves the cocoon to live but a minute.How long is the eye able to look at the sun?From the very beginning nothing at all has lasted.”

“Okay," he said, "would I be twisting you words too much if I said that you are mad at Lydia because she loves you?"I had to think about that for a while. "I suppose not. We weren't supposed to fall in love with each other."So she's violated your agreement?" Then he wanted to know why Lydia would have ever agreed to such a thing in the first place. Why would she want to be in a relationship not based on love? We decided the only reason would be if she was afraid of love. And if she was no longer afraid of love, wasn't that good? Didn't it say that she was healthier and more mature? And why had I ever wanted to be with someone who was neither of these things? Was I, too, afraid of love?”

“I would go to parties and say I was an editor, and people, especially women – and that was important to me back then – would say, “Oh, really?” and raise their eyebrows and look at me a little more carefully. I remember the first party I went to after I became a teacher, someone asked me what I did for a living, and I said, “Well, I teach high school.” He looked over my shoulder, nodded his head, said, “I went to high school,” and walked away.Once I repeated this anecdote around a big table full of Mexican food in the garden at a place called La Choza in Chicago, and Becky Mueller, another teacher at the school, said that I was a “storyteller.” I liked that. I was looking for something to be other than “just” a teacher, and “storyteller” felt about right. I am a teacher and a storyteller in that order. I have made my living and my real contribution to my community as a teacher, and I have been very lucky to have found that calling, but all through the years I have entertained myself and occasionally other people by telling stories.”

“عندما انتزع نفسي من نفسي من اجل فهم الغير ، وعندما أوسع حقل تجاربي ، فإني اتفرد بما أنني أتجاوز ماهو خاص في وضعي الأصلي من أجل التوصل إما للعالمية أو على الأقل ، لمراعاة إمكانيات الإنسانية جمعاء”

“Heart as collapsed time, as a dug-up grave, as simple machine. Heart as big black bugs bleed blue blood. Heart as MI frozen as seen from airplane, everything still and white and beautiful. Heart as the Day the Music Died. Heart as love being made, as fucking, as a pleasantly haunted house. Heart as a dim memory of a dark room in which you’re molded wetasscracked into a beanbag chair, fumbling for wetness. Come hither. Heart as a cunt’s supposed to smell like tuna. Heart as the star of the sea. Heart as a pussy in permanent bloom. Heart as doxycycline. Heart as waxwings, as a fudge round, as the phone rings once and then stops. Heart as throw your hands in the air, throw your art at the stars, stutter and stare. Heart as a Stratocaster. Heart as Twin Reverb. Heart as I heart you so much. Heart as all that we thought we knew in the world disappears into vapor. Heart as the rest of your life times the weight of the world squared.”