After I'm Gone
All life is hindsight, really, stories informed by their endings.
Almost every writer I know dreads the moment when someone tries to give you an idea. Its not that the ideas are bad, just that the relationship between writer and novel is so personal that its a little like someone trying to play matchmaker for a happily married person.
Everyone cared what others thought, even those who were defiantly different. They cared more than anyone.
Everyone thinks everythings a waste of time when its not the thing that leads to an answer.
He was gone. Kiss
It was as if his fingers knew things, but they couldn't show him unless they were moving, touching. He had to think it was similar for carpenters and writers, and he knew it was the same for chefs.
People make fun of love at first sight, but its just good instincts.
Sandy tried to never lose sight of the fact that we tend to order things according to the reality we know, as we discover it. All life is hindsight, really, stories informed by their endings.
She had thought: No, I was dead. Now Im
Ten years. Ten years. Rachel missed her father every day. Not consciously, but his absence was a part of her, like a vine that wraps around a structure, sustains it even as it weakens it.
There it was again, another strange usage. 'We had words.' Everyone has words...What a useless euphemism. The phrases that people used to make things prettier never worked.
When destiny wants to fuck with you, it can afford to be patient. Destiny has all the time in the world.
When destiny wants to fuck with you, it can afford to be patient. Destiny has all the time in the world. Anyway,
When it came down to it, Sandy didnt have much use for words because so many of the ones he had heard over his life had been lies.
You can rewrite life all you want, Sandy thought. Its still a play where everyone dies in the end.