Sublime

No grave-stone, or mound, or any little hillock around the house, betrayed any past burials of man or child. And thus, with no trace then to me of its past history, thus it hath now entirely departed and perished from my slightest knowledge as to where that house so stood, or in what region it so stood. None other house like it have I ever seen. Bu

In a prime spot just across the yellow-tape road from the lemon trees, he tended his own dark grove of bookshelves, and beside them a field of legal boxes, which held thousands of menus from restaurants famous and obscure. Whenever I passed Horace’s collection, there was someone flipping through the menus with the furious intensity of a DJ digging

She’d read in a park near the school, storing novels in the hollow of an ancient oak she thought of as her friend.

Cladastris luteas, yellowwoods,

Hemingway and Fitzgerald each went his own way that summer, 1925. Ernest and his wife Hadley journeyed to Pamplona for the running of the bulls, Scott and Zelda to the south of France.

Cadaqués, our little pueblo by the sea.

The aunts were not invited to potluck suppers or library fund-raisers, but when a woman in town quarreled with her lover, when she found herself pregnant by someone who wasn’t her husband, or discovered that the man she’d married was unfaithful as a hound, then there she’d be, at the Owens back door, just after twilight, the hour when the shadows c

la meilleure amie d’une autre jeune femme, mariée celle-là, s’en vient vivre avec eux, et puis, à son insu, en toute innocence, mais sans merci, entreprend d’épouser le mari. Quand ce dernier est un écrivain occupé une bonne partie de la journée à une tâche difficile, et n’est donc pas pour sa femme un compagnon ou un partenaire digne de ce nom, l’