Sublime

'What blessings God showers on men!' thought he. 'Yet how needlessly they torment themselves. What prevents them from living happily?'

Something was wrong, everything was wrong. I went for a walk through the streets. My God, here I was again, roaming the town. I looked at the faces around me, and I knew mine was like theirs. Faces with the blood drained away, tight faces, worried, lost. Faces like flowers torn from their roots and stuffed into a pretty vase, the colors draining fa

My voice summoned him to my aid; but I scarcely noticed his re-entrance, and now faintly recollect his terrified looks, his broken exclamations, his vehement avowals of innocence, the effusions of his pity for me, and his offers of assistance. I did not listen—I answered him not—I ceased to upbraid or accuse. His guilt was a point to which I was in

the physician’s duty is not to stave off death or return patients to their old lives, but to take into our arms a patient and family whose lives have disintegrated and work until they can stand back up and face, and make sense of, their own existence.

il voyait que tous ceux de son entourage le considéraient comme un désagrément accidentel, comme une inconvenance (tel un homme qui, en entrant dans un salon, exhalerait autour de lui une mauvaise odeur). Toujours les apparences qui avaient été le culte de toute sa vie. Il voyait que personne ne le regrettait, que personne ne voulait même comprendr

a furry, flattened body with a red/gray ejaculation of blood and brains having burst from his little exploded head. To Kugel, chipmunks looked as if they’d died of a good idea;

walked slowly in the same direction. He looked about forty, very dark with a melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion