It takes a year, nephew... a full turn of the calendar, to get over losing someone.
Annie ProulxStichwörter: loss grief bereavement
What Jack remembered and craved in a way he could neither help nor understand was the time that distant summer on Brokeback when Ennis had come up behind him and pulled him close, the silent embrace satisfying some shared and sexless hunger. They had stood that way for a long time in front of the fire, its burning tossing ruddy chunks of light, the shadow of their bodies a single column against the rock. The minutes ticked by from the round watch in Ennis's pocket, from the sticks in the fire settling into coals. Stars bit through the wavy heat layers above the fire. Ennis's breath came slow and quiet, he hummed, rocked a little in the sparklight and Jack leaned against the steady heartbeat, the vibrations of the humming like faint electricity and, standing, he fell into sleep that was not sleep but something else drowsy and tranced until Ennis, dredging up a rusty but still useable phrase from the childhood time before his mother died, said, "Time to hit the hay, cowboy. I got a go. Come on, you're sleepin on your feet like a horse," and gave Jack a shake, a push, and went off in the darkness. Jack heard his spurs tremble as he mounted, the words "see you tomorrow," and the horse's shuddering snort, grind of hoof on stone. Later, that dozy embrace solidified in his memory as the single moment of artless, charmed happiness in their separate and difficult lives. Nothing marred it, even the knowledge that Ennis would not then embrace him face to face because he did not want to see nor feel that it was Jack he held. And maybe, he thought, they'd never get much farther that that. Let be, let be.
Annie ProulxHome after midnight from a debate on the wording of a minor municipal bylaw on bottle recycling, he felt like he was a pin in the hinge of power.
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It's easier to die if others around you are dying.
Annie ProulxAll the travelin I ever done is going around the coffeepot looking for the handle.
Annie Proulx...all them things I don't know could get you killed if I come to know them
Annie ProulxTheir silence comfortable. Something unfolding. But what? Not love, which wrenched and wounded. Not love, which came only once.
Annie ProulxStichwörter: love
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We're all strange inside. We learn how to disguise our differences as we grow up.
Annie ProulxYou know, the Chinese have forgotten more about sailing than the rest of the world ever knew.
Annie ProulxThey say that doing ten sums a day prevents you from becoming senile. But by that argument bankers should be geniuses. That's not right. Thickest heads in the world.
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