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“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have done it, but they had it coming.”

Every voice an epitaph, and then a little tune from the neighbor’s yard.

I’d chosen three hundred boys out of the best Israel had to offer.

Until now the man had not really lived, but simply existed, to be sure.

Tirelessly her arm rose and fell, till the child at last fell at her feet.

Darla has come to the monument to fight against her mind.

The dead and alive who we will never see again but in dream or memory.

He could not help but take her as his wife. She was a scandal.

I found myself wondering what her life had been in her widowhood.

We’ve tried, but it seems it is in the stars for us to hate each other.

After days of torture in secret prisons, they were about to let him go.

El Presidente was no longer in a mood to see the American press.

Eavan’s death was catastrophic, leaving us all wanting more.

Lying in wait, set to pounce on the page, are letters up to no good.

The Kid came back from the post trader’s store with a six-shooter.

My mother’s city and I were both named after an assassinated king.

He was frightened, a creature no more or less unbound by time than I am.

Kids interfere with perfection. Wives interfere. Marriage interferes.

The letter both pleased and disturbed her. Why did he get in touch?

The house of our relationship is a fort. Blanket fort. Tree fort.

I tell her I’m a woman now, that my boobs just popped in.

The sense of power that flights of temper evoke will betray you.

A coldness bumped a last kiss upon my cheek, a good-bye kiss sliding across.

The eyes looked into his own with a meaning, a malign significance.

Here was rot and immemorial night. And death. Death above all.

I am eleven years old and too young to die, but I am dying nonetheless.

I am eleven years old and too young to die, but I am dying nonetheless.

If, on your deathbed, you want to watch a movie, don’t let me pick.

He handed us sticks of dynamite, rolled in wax paper like taffy.