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This kind of heart-wrenching love was different from all the others.

Those are the horses you win on, the ones that want to kill you.

Didn’t you think I’d come after you? Don’t you want to be with me?

I’m not the girl for anyone. I can’t just go be a wife.

Eliza Frye

After seventeen years we’re parting ways. Breakups hurt, even this one.

It was more fun to get drunk with a friend than with a lover.

We were aiming for a complete transformation of society.

I could feel the floor’s slight pitch. We were in for a long, long voyage.

He begins to realize that the impossible event may well be about to occur.

Ask your mother about babies. Ask her about the baby that died.

As the whorled fingerpad loves Morse, but more so. Worse.

Our hopes swirled around the act of swallowing a teaspoon of yogurt.

May the dice throw their combinations at night. May it be June then July.

It’s not the sun and all its colonies that miss you—it’s the frailest barriers.

Let the squeamish suffer their fear, let them live without really living.

We agreed: no hearts, no flowers, just courteous, no-strings sex.

It had always been this way. Mothering, for my mother, was a cameo role.

The solution, she’s discovered, is always to err on the side of caution.

I lost my pen, I lost my keys, and my hat somewhere on a table.

On Saturdays I listen to folk music, lead a life devoted to exodus.

I could untie Minnie’s silk, restitch it into places I’ve lived.

When I was a woman, I was all reason and my reason was unjust.

Take my hand, lead me by heart over the blind stepping-stones to the edge.

I give you a real blue song the mountains hold under their foot.

If dating taught Cory anything, it was that he needed an ex-wife.

I’m just wired hard for hunting, and not so much at all for fishing.

I shouldn’t have to say why the confederate flag is a symbol of hate.

On the small of my daughter’s back is a two-inch tattoo. MADE IN CHINA.

I want him to remember me hanging on his crosshairs.