But in high school the business of irrevocable choices began. Doors slipped shut with a faint locking click that was only heared clearly in the dreams of later years.
But in high school the business of irrevocable choices began. Doors slipped shut with a faint locking click that was only heared clearly in the dreams of later years.
The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.
He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts
What can be done when you're eleven can often never be done again.
What's been tried once had been tried once before... and before... and before...
A coward judges all he sees by what he is.
Think what you will, blackbird, for I'll be here long after thee's gone they course and died thy death.
Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.
Long days and pleasant nights.
And I guess you judge how well you're doing by how well you sleep at night... and what your dreams are like.
You know, schizoid behavior is a pretty common thing in children. It's accepted, because all we adults have this unspoken agreement that children are lunatics.
HEY, BOBBY TERRY, YOU SCROOOOWED IT UP!
That wasn't any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.
Get on before I blow you lose of your shoes and give your fathers cause to celebrate!
It would perhaps not be amiss to point out that he had always tried to be a good dog. He had tried to do all the things his MAN and his WOMAN, and most of all his BOY, had asked or expected of him. He would have died for them, if that had been required. He had never wanted to kill anybody. He had been struck by something, possibly destiny, or fate, or only a degenerative nerve disease called rabies. Free will was not a factor.
There are also books full of great writing that don't have very good stories. Read sometimes for the story, Bobby. Don't be like the book snobs who won't do that. Read sometimes for the words-the language. Don't be like the play-it-safers that won't do that. But when you find a book that has both a good story and good words, treasure that book.-Mr. Brautigan says to Bobby.
Her hands twisted restlessly together like a pair of pink and hairless animals at play.
You could start at a path leading nowhere more fantastic than from your own front steps to the sidewalk, and from there you could go… well, anywhere at all.
You learned to accept, or you ended up in a small room writing letters home with Crayolas.
A man who can't bear to share his habits is a man who needs to quit them.
What I'd show you is much more bizarre than anything we have looked at so far, and I warn you in advance that the first impulse will be to laugh. That's all right. Laugh if you must. Just don't take your eye off what you see, for even in your imagination, here is a creature who can do you damage.
Weird love's better than no love at all.
Once again there was the desert, and that only.
Either get busy living or get busy dying
A man who doubts himself shouldn't have to try too hard for too long, not until he's seasoned.
His name is Legion. He is the king of nowhere.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want for nothing. He makes me lie down in the green pastures. He greases up my head with oil. He gives me kung-fu in the face of my enemies. Amen
Good days and long nights to ya, sai.
Una absurda palabra antigua acudió a su mente. Burlado, pensó. He sido burlado.
There's always someone who knows something.
I discovered news of old horrors in old books; read intelligence of old atrocities in old periodicals; always in the back of my mind, every day a bit louder, I heard the seashell drone of some growing, coalescing force; I seemed to smell the bitter ozone aroma of lightings-to-come.
Can I? Yeah. You bet I can. There's a million things in this world can't do. Couldn't hit a curve ball, even back in high school. Can't fix a leaky faucet. Can't roller-skate or make an F-chord on the guitar that sounds like anything but shit. I have tried twice to be married and couldn't do it either time. But if you want me to take you away, to scare you or involve you or make you cry or grin, yeah. I can. I can bring it to you and keep bringing it until you holler uncle. I am able. I CAN.
But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.
All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead. These are the rooms of ruin where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one...
What I'm saying is that I'm trying to find rational reasons to explain irrational feelings, and that's neveer a good sign.
Working with him was sort of like trying to defuse a bomb with somebody standing behind you and every now and then clashing a pair of cymbals together. In a word, upsetting.
Shall there be truth between us, as two men? Not as friends, but as enemies and equals?
Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.
A man who loves money is a bastard, someone to be hated. A man who can't take care of it is a fool. You don't hate him, but you got to pity him.
I think you're a taker. You've always been one. It's like God left some part of you out when He built you inside of me.
The thought process can never be complete without articulation.
If it's ka it'll come like a wind, and your plans will stand before it no more than a barn before a cyclone
We'll just have to get along. That's what people do, you know? They just get along. And try to help each other.
What if there were no grownups? Suppose the whole idea of grownups was an illusion? What if their money was really just playground marbles, their business deals no more than baseball-card trades, their wars only games of guns in the park? What if they were all still snotty-nosed kids inside their suits and dresses? Christ, that couldn't be, could it? It was too horrible to think about.
I'm going to put them in the slam, my friend, and if I hear they got their puckery little assholes cored down there in Thomaston, I'm gonna send them cards saying I hope whoever did it had AIDS.
I am in trouble here. This woman is not right.
Corey Bryant sank into a great forgetful river, and that river was time, and its waters were red.
And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.
You needn't die happy when your time comes, but you must die satisfied, for you have lived your life from the beginning to the end and ka is always served.
Allie sighed. It was an old, yellow sound, like turning pages.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories