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I saw it on her face that day, a look like her heart would drift into the sky.

I look on Britain as a new world, which it is almost madness to invade.

Are these poems just cumbersome or a critique of cumbersomeness?

I lost myself in their minds: for the moment I actually became them.

Meghan Dunn

What would make a sane person want to watch such blood sport?

One felt all the poor lady’s barriers were falling save her manner.

If you want to know what to write, ask yourself what obsesses you.

We were in a play about affection. We were in a play about sex.

It almost makes you cry, to know that you are no longer needed.

The first time the world demanded more of me, I was twenty-nine.

I hear myself giving advice in my father’s voice: Take the emotion out.

It takes a strong woman to make any sort of success in the West.

Ma didn’t believe in slapping. It was what common people did.

Joanie’s face was something she’d borrowed from Miró, from Picasso.

My friend Angela, who is also my roommate, got me into stripping.

What humanity needed was that gravity-defying miracle, the bird.

What’s a man supposed to do when his best friend is a falcon?

If mine, then, is a religious Offence, leave it to religious Punishments.

“As your brother, I ask you, how did you get that scar on your face?”

Her bra is black, her breasts full and white. There is too much flesh.

For a month after 9/11 Bella wept through all her appointments.

Like New York City, the factory was circumscribed but infinite.

At a red light he touches his cheek. The stubbly skin is sensitive, febrile.

I found myself alone on the train in possession only of Knoll’s journal.

Forgive my father, the promise that he made, that I could turn all this to gold.

“I—I am Martin Eden,” Martin began. (“And I want my five dollars.")

Her sentiments maudlin, malaise dripped like a fever from her pores.

These adventures taught me that writers are flawed human beings.

When I think on it, I can’t believe I’m going to kill two people over weed.