Where Books and Readers Come Together
“‘This is my true Bride,’ said he… The true wedding was celebrated with great pomp and happiness.”
“Suppose a vast number of civilizations are distributed throughout the universe, on the order of the number of detectable stars. Lots and lots of them. Those civilizations make up the body of a cosmic society. Cosmic sociology is the study of the nature of this super-society” (p 12).
“She was intoxicated by her brilliant, crimson dream until a bullet pierced her chest.”
“Well, to me, that’s what love is. Not that anyone can understand me, though.”
“It had rained Saturday night, but the rain had dwindled to a stop before dawn, and across the river, above and beyond the belfry and steeple, the green whaleback of Monadnock was wreathed in gossamer wisps of fog.”
“And then, on Christmas Eve, a miracle occurred: Ting-Pei Warren, the Judeo-Christian Buddhist cat, high on catnip and tuna water, silently scaled the six-foot spruce while her family sat by the fire, making short work of a pecan-encrusted cheese log. The three of us turned just in time to see her, a silver star atop the highest bough. And just in time to see her lose her balance and take the entire tree down with her.”
“I want to tell you a story. This story is about the man you’re named after and about the woman who looked after you early in your life and about the man she called her American son.”
“There are wells, deep wells, dug in our hearts. Birds fly over them.”
A compendium of history, politics and religion since the dawn of the agrarian age in human civilization.
“Go away, the old buildings said. There is no place for you here. You are not wanted. We have secrets.”
“Recovery, in all its varied forms, is simply a human instinct.”
“To travel through Sichuan countryside is to feel the history, the years of work that have shaped the land, the sheer weight of humanity on patches of earth that have been worked in the same way for centuries.”
“Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.”
