Sublime

“Please don’t die.” It sounds like Hollywood dialogue. But that’s what she said. I just hugged her more tightly.

C’était le premier paragraphe. « Un tissu d’âneries, j’ai décrété. – Alors aide-le. S’il te plaît. » Il n’en avait plus que pour un an, d’après elle. Il avait quitté Los Angeles pour s’installer aux confins du Santa Ana, en plein désert. Là-bas il vivait dans une cahute et écrivait comme un malade. Toute sa vie il avait voulu écrire. Et avec si peu

nepotistic

boxes in the States: Tastee

At a party given by a billionaire on Shelter Island, Kurt Vonnegut informs his pal, Joseph Heller, that their host, a hedge fund manager, had made more money in a single day than Heller had earned from his wildly popular novel Catch-22 over its whole history. Heller responds, “Yes, but I have something he will never have … enough.”

(Although even in her twenties, Charlie wasn’t what you’d call eye candy: her looks had always been sharp edged and intense, more like eye tequila.)

To be a human was to continually dumb the world down into an understandable story that keeps things simple.

echt

In twenty years, Joel has never been able to figure out why Fawn had liked him when she was overweight and awkward, and why she dislikes him now that she’s slender and pretty. He doesn’t seem to understand everyone has standards—some people just hardly ever get to apply theirs.