"He always kept a piece of paper and a pen or two on his night table—still does—to write down things that came to him in his sleep or he thought of while lying in bed. If he used up that piece of paper or took it to his writing table to work off of, he replaced it with another one when he went to bed that night. The room was dark when he woke up from this dream."
"She named her loneliness Sylvia so her mother did not worry that Veta was alone all the time. Most often she remained in the library where the air smelled of beautiful paper dust, of poems which slept between the pages, of writers, forgotten long time ago between the thick dusty covers of the books."
"We're in the yard of Richard's condo building in Cambridge. The afternoon air is cold, bone dry, and the lawn has gone to shit, far past brown and into grey. We're sitting on swings and the whole swingset creaks under each shift. The chains are rusted. There haven't been kids in the building for years."
"Early one hot July morning my cousin took me with him in his dirty truck, the floor littered with V8 cans and vaccination records. He was a Veterinarian and worked in Chester County on mostly Amish dairy farms. I wore a pair of my brother’s old hiking boots and cut-off jeans, and couldn’t sit still the whole way there. I loved cows."
"Alice began to correct the Hare, but the Hatter told her, “Don’t egg him on,” so she kept quiet, well aware that her companions were simply engaging in antics, “And I’m not anti- some antics,” she assured herself."
"I was still excited about the class and I was explaining a theory. 'According to Ann Berthoff, language builds the human world,' I said. 'And this other guy, Burke, claims that we create reality out of language.'"
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