This town of churches and dreams; this town I thought I would lose myself in, with its backward ways and winding roads leading to nowhere; but, I found myself instead. -Magic in the Backyard (excerpt from American Honey)
Kellie ElmoreTags: poetry journey literature southern prose short-stories coming-of-age country inspiring finding-yourself small-town magic-in-the-backyard
There’s a reason humans peg-out around eighty: prose fatigue. It looks like organ failure or cancer or stroke but it’s really just the inability to carry on clambering through the assault course of mundane cause and effect. If we ask Sheila then we can’t ask Ron. If I have the kippers now then it’s quiche for tea. Four score years is about all the ifs and thens you can take. Dementia’s the sane realisation you just can’t be doing with all that anymore.
Glen DuncanA man cannot impart the true feeling of things to others unless he himself has experienced what he is trying to tell of.
Jack KerouacTags: man beat experience-mistakes-wisdom prose jack-kerouac atop-an-underwood early-stories-and-other-writings
I was amazed by the fact that I was not the only writer living, not the only young man "with a locomotive in his chest, and that's a fact," not the only youth with a million hungers and not one of them appeasable, not the only one who is lonely among multitudes, and does not know why.
Jack KerouacTags: inspirational loneliness beat prose jack-kerouac young-writers atop-an-underwood albert-halper locomotive
I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?
Jack KerouacTags: beat death-and-dying prose fear-of-death jack-kerouac fleeting-life atop-an-underwood early-stories-and-other-writings youth-is-temporary
Unlike Gatsby and Tom Buchanan I had no girl whose disembodied face floated along the dark cornices and blinding signs and so I drew up the girl beside me, tightening my arms. Her wan scornful mouth smiled and I drew her up again, closer, this time to my face.
F. Scott FitzgeraldTags: prose lovely the-great-gatsby
Tell all the truth but tell it slant.
Emily DickinsonThe punter sweated on top of Marina, his lips all over her young body, his tongue slipping out from rows of crooked teeth, pushing hungrily from between his shrivelled lips like a clam from a shell, a bottom feeder searching for salty nutrition.
Tom ConradTags: prose nutrition crooked tom-conrad clam crooked-teeth novel-in-a-novel
Juliet!' I whip around but not quickly enough. She's swallowed by the crowd, the gap that allowed her to break for the door closing just as quickly as it opened, a shifting Tetris pattern of bodies...
Lauren OliverTags: prose
The snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.
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