Sublime

He was let loose back into the world. He was trusted to go to work. It was asked of him to be normal. To be a father. To be a husband. But he couldn’t get better. He just couldn’t. He began to see all of time as happening simultaneously, or close to it. He began to see that he could be at work, or at Nathan’s baseball game, but he could also be loc

Maybe we have to become almost old and have grown children, as I have, to understand our own parents and, reflected in them, something more about ourselves. Now, suddenly, I seem to comprehend the abyss of solitude I would fall into if I could no longer telephone my mother and tell her that Michele and the children are fine and ate happily.

I’m forty-three, although, when I think of it, I can’t convince myself it’s true.

I scarce know how to put my story into words that shall be a credible picture of my state of mind; but I was in these days literally able to find a joy in the extraordinary flight of heroism the occasion demanded of me. I now saw that I had been asked for a service admirable and difficult; and there would be a greatness in letting it be seen – oh i

Pesia had lost her entire family when they were taken out of the bunker.

Shelley had lived for as long as she could remember in perpetual dread of being dislikeable – a fate even more terrible than being disliked, for it encompassed not only her relationships with others, but her private judgments of herself.

She was only doing it because as much as she couldn’t forgive herself for the day of the bees, she couldn’t forgive Graham, either. He’d made her different.