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She went on, “Yes, Porter and I did discuss divorce, and we realized we loved each other too much to do anything so silly.” “That’s got to be a comfort to you now,” I said. “I can imagine how painful it would be to have someone you care for die with a lot of unresolved --” “Yes!” she exclaimed. “That is exactly right!” She gave me an approving lashless gaze. “See, gay guys always understand these things!” “We’re born with that understanding gene,” I said. ↗
...she imagines her body curled in the narrow monk's bed, knees to chin, her own irrefutable geography, but she sees the blood of her futile heart seeping out over her chest and arms and legs, flooding across the rough wooden floor, down the narrow wooden stairs and out into the old soil of the garden. No roses, no, she does not even ask to make roses, just dissolution; most any night she asks just for that. ↗
There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house, there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing. I don't know what it is. I'm so damned unhappy, I'm so mad, and I don't know why I feel like I'm putting on weight, I feel fat. I feel like I've been saving up a lot of things, and don't konw what. I might even start reading books. ↗
It’s always encouraging to be told that it is intellectually acceptable to read the sorts of things that you like to read anyway. ↗
When my head is in the typewriter the last thing on my mind is some imaginary reader. I don’t have an audience; I have a set of standards. But when I think of my work out in the world, written and published, I like to imagine it’s being read by some stranger somewhere who doesn’t have anyone around him to talk to about books and writing—maybe a would-be writer, maybe a little lonely, who depends on a certain kind of writing to make him feel more comfortable in the world. ↗
Doom is nigh. I am in acute distress, desperately trying to coax sleep, opening my eyes every few seconds to check their faded gleam, and imagining paradise as a place where a sleepless neighbor reads an endless book by the light of an eternal candle. ↗
