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The people with pebbles go home to frolic under the detritus of the day.

An excerpt of The Transit of Venus, read by actor Juliet Stevenson.

He would write a poem on one page, but it might take him months.

Charlie wasn’t Lena’s first love, but he counted on being her last.

I tell my sister what I didn’t tell my father, I love you. Please, don’t die.

I keep hearing water sprites chattering, breathing.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.

Hemingway’s The Garden of Eden was edited by Tom Jenks.

He twisted like a weasel in the sack, lashing backward with his fist.

I come home in the evenings to Mother scraping my scalp for God.

My closet was a repository of foibles and fetishes, an archive of my life history.

The writer was there ahead of the world. And that was a great moment . . .

Dan Gerber reads poems of boyhood, and from the end of his mother’s life.

I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.

I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.

All I could focus on was if he was going to ask me to date him.

We could have everything and still be hurt.

What about writers who come suddenly into full power late in life?

Because I can love every small thing.

Best-selling author Melanie Gideon reads from her novel Wife 22.

The light is like a benediction. My husband reaches for my hand.