The thing about her is, she’s good-natured. He knew it the second he saw her standing by the parking meters. He could just tell from the soft way her belly looked. With women, you keep bumping against them, because they want different things, they’re a different race. Either they give, like a plant, or scrape, like a stone. In all the green world nothing feels as good as a woman’s good nature.
John UpdikeMots clés women relationships 1960
From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few.
John UpdikeMots clés shame secrets infancy spies
Americans have been conditioned to respect newness, whatever it costs them.
John UpdikeMots clés americans
Ever since, two summers ago, Joe Marino had begun to come into her bed, a preposterous fecundity had overtaken the staked plans, out in the side garden where the southwestern sun slanted in through the line of willows each long afternoon. The crooked little tomato branches, pulpy and pale as if made of cheap green paper, broke under the weight of so much fruit; there was something frantic in such fertility, a crying-out like that of children frantic to please. Of plants, tomatoes seemed the most human, eager and fragile and prone to rot. Picking the watery orange-red orbs, Alexandra felt she was cupping a giant lover’s testicles in her hand.
John UpdikeWhat is the past, after all, but a vast sheet of darkness in which a few moments, pricked apparently at random, shine?
John UpdikeA woman’s beauty lies, not in any exaggeration of the specialized zones, nor in any general harmony that could be worked out by means of the sectio aurea or a similar aesthetic superstition; but in the arabesque of the spine. The curve by which the back modulates into the buttocks. It is here that grace sits and rides a woman’s body.
John UpdikeChildren are not a zoo of entertainingly exotic creatures, but an array of mirrors in which the human predicament leaps out at us.
John UpdikeMots clés children human childhood
He tries to picture how it will end, with an empty baseball field, a dark factory, and then over a brook in a dirt road, he doesn’t know. He pictures a huge vacant field of cinders and his heart goes hollow.
John UpdikeMots clés haunting
It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you.
John UpdikeMots clés love
To say that war is madness is like saying that sex is madness: true enough, from the standpoint of a stateless eunuch, but merely a provocative epigram for those who must make their arrangements in the world as given.
John Updike« ; premier précédent
Page 6 de 15.
suivant dernier » ;
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.