Affichage des articles du avril 22, 2017

"Love or be loved are like rubbing your stomach and patting your head—nearly impossible to accomplish simultaneously"

“She nodded in a way that meant she had no interest in such things: San Francisco specifically, but really the world outside Needles. He tried to imagine himself as Britta, spending his days interacting with people who were on the move, coming from or going to places that he had never seen, maybe never even heard of. Was it possible that she had not once felt the urge to pack up and follow, to solve the mystery of who Britta would be—would become—in Columbus, Ohio, or Roanoke, Virginia? It seemed inconceivable to him, to have no curiosity about one’s parallel lives, those lives that different places would demand that you live.”

“Perhaps that was the nature of love: either a person was not in it enough to care, or was in it too deeply to make anything but mistakes.”

“Aaron stopped to eat just after Bakersfield, at a place marked by an old door propped up beside the road, doorknob intact, painted with the words SALS FOOD. The apostrophe—what his students called “the up comma”—was missing,…