It's a form of terrorism not to bomb this town.
Lorrie MooreThe faces of the panel listening were the very embodiment of skepticism made flesh.
Lorrie MooreBlasts from the past were like the rooms one entered and re-entered in dreams: they would not stay nailed down. When you returned to them, they had changed - they suddenly had more space or a tilt or a door that had not been there before. New people were milling around, the floors undulated, and the sun shone newly, strangely in the windows, or through the now blasted-open ceiling, or else it shone not at all, as if having fled the sky.
Lorrie MooreWhat was education for, if not to acquire contradictions? At least it looked like that to me.
Lorrie MooreI felt nothing like a horse, whose instincts I knew were to run and run. I had mostly in life tried to stand still like a glob of coral so as not to be spotted by sharks. But now I had crawled out onto land and was somehow already a horse.
Lorrie MooreI used to think that those essentially happy and romantic novels that ended with a wedding were all wrong, that they had left out the most interesting part of the story.
Lorrie MooreLove is a fever," she said. "And when you come out of it you'll discover whether you've been lucky - or not.
Lorrie MoorePhilosophers are good at parties but not for cleaning up after.
Lorrie MooreAn agony. The exit like the entrance - but reversed. A palindrome: gut-tug.
Lorrie MooreAnd though he continued never to express a single word of love for me, not in any way of his several languages, I could not take a hint. Let the hint be written across the heavens in skywriting done by several planes - I was dense. Even skywriting, well, it wasn't always certain: it might not cover the whole entire sky, or some breeze might smudge it, so who could really say for sure what it said? Even skywriting wouldn't have worked! Several years later, I would wonder why I had thought my feelings for this man were anything but a raw, thrilling, vigilant infatuation. But I still had called them love. I was in love. I had learned the Portuguese and the Arabic for love, but all for naught.
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