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For den som er interessert i mennesker, gjelder det å holde menneskeheten på en armlengdes avstand. (...) Et liv i skyggen er det beste utgangspunktet for å studere lyset.

Every year, the memories I have of my father become more faint, unclear and distant. Once they were vivid and true, then they became like photographs, and now they are more like photographs of photographs. But sometimes, at rare moments, a memory of him will return to me with such suddenness and clarity that all the feeling I've pushed down for years springs out like a jack-in-the-box. At these moments, I wonder if this is the way it feels to be my mother.

The pain of forgetting: the spine. The pain of remembering: the spine. All the times I have suddenly realized that my parents are dead, even now, it still surprises me, to exist in the world while that which made me has ceased to exist; my knees, it takes half a tube of Ben-Gay and a big production just to bend them. To everything a season, to every time I’ve woken only to make the mistake of believing for a moment someone was sleeping beside me: a hemorrhoid. Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all.

At the end, all that's left of you are your possessions. Perhaps that's why I've never been able to throw anything away. Perhaps that's why I hoarded the world: with the hope that when I died, the sum total of my things would suggest a life larger than the one I lived.

For hva er det litteratur egentlig handler om? Hvorfor skriver og leser vi? Vi søker det personlige uttrykket, det kunstnerisk gyldige vitnesbyrdet om at verden finnes, og at det som er sant for ett menneske, også vil være sant for et annet. God litteratur viser oss jo at det som én forfatter har skrevet, aldri ville kunne være skrevet av en annen forfatter. Og ikke desto mindre: at det som bare kunne vært skrevet av ett bestemt individ, likevel fremstår som om det er skrevet for alle.

Jeg våknet ved at datteren til kvinnen fra La Baule satte i et hyl av glede: "Colosseum! Colosseum!", og helt mekanisk reiste jeg meg fra setet og fant min plass i rekken av turister på vei ut av bussen. I den klare sommerkvelden innga det berømte byggverket meg en følelse av å stå overfor et kjempemessig kranium, helt renset for kjøtt og med de mørke buegangene som tomme, blinde øyenhuler.

Tom began screaming, and I wondered if the baby’s soft brain was, in this moment, changing shape in response to the violent stimuli. I tried to intellectualize the noise to protect the baby’s psyche. I whispered: Isnæt that interesting to hear a man scream? Doesn’t that challenge our stereotypes of what men can do? And then I tried, Shhhhhhhhh.

When my husband saw the new short hair, he gave me the look we give each other when one of us forgets who we are. We are not people who buy instant cocoa powder, we do not make small talk, we do not buy Hallmark cards or believe in Hallmark rituals such as Valentine’s Day or weddings. In general, we try to stay away from things that are MEANINGLESS, we favor things that are MEANINGFUL.

She never inquired, but she never recoiled either. This is a quality that I look for in a person, not recoiling. Some people need a red carpet rolled out in front of them in order to walk forward into friendship. They can’t see the tiny outstretched hands all around them, everywhere, like leaves on trees.

I’m not sure I could care for a pet. I travel a lot. But you could get a very little pet that wasn’t very hungry. I knew all about those things that weren’t very hungry; my life was full of them. I didn’t want any more weaklings who were activated by water and heat but had no waste and were so small that when they died, I buried them only with forgetfulness. If I was going to bring something new into my home, it would be a big starving thing. But I could not do this. I didn’t tell the boy, because II was just his dog-believer.

We were excited about getting jobs; we hardly went anywhere without filling out an application. But once we were hired-as furniture sanders-we could not believe this was really what people did all day. Everything we had thought of as The World was actually the result of someone’s job. Each line on the sidewalk, each saltine. Everyone had rotting carpet and a door to pay for. Aghast, we quit. There had to be a more dignified way to live. We needed time to consider ourselves, to come up with a theory about who we were and set it to music.

He seemed to have all the time in the world for this, my God, did he have time. I have never taken such care with anything. That is my problem with life, I rush through it, like I’m being chased. Even things whose whole point is slowness, like dringing relaxing tea. When I dring relaxing tea, I suck it down as if I’m in a contest for who can dring relaxing tea the quickest. Or if I’m in a hot tub with some other people and we’re all looking up at the stars, I’ll be the first to say, It’s so beautiful here. Thesooner you say, It’s so beautiful here, the quicker you can say, Wow, I’m getting overheated.

Are you angry? Punch a pillow. Was it satisfying? Not hardly. These days people are too angryfor punching. What you might try is stabbing. Take an old pillow and lay it on the front lawn. Stab it with a big pointy knife. Again and again and again. Stab hard enough for the point of the knife to go into the ground. Stab until the pillow is gone and you are just stabbing the earth again and again, as if you want to kill it for continuing to spin, as if you are getting revenge for having to live on this planet day after day, alone.

One reason Helena and I would never be close friends is that I am about half as tall as she. People tend to stick to their own size group because it’s easier on the neck. Unless they are romantically involved, in which case the size difference is sexy. It means: I am willing to go the distance for you.