I’ve decided to post found sentences as I read and discover them. This goes back to my roots as a writer. Fifteen–sixteen, taking long walks across town to find a cozy coffee shop to sit and read in. Skipping school to do the same. The delight in coming across a sentence that as we say nails it, I recall with a vividness that makes my skin buzz to life. I have many notebooks from that time and after full of sentences I copied out of other peoples books just so I could feel them with my fingers.
From “The Dungeon Master” by Sam Lipsyte: “Upstairs my sister sqeals. She’s all phone calls and baggy sweaters.”
From “Property” by Elizabeth McCracken:
“The weight of the bag was like the stones in a suicide’s pocket.”
“The Not Owner of the house was a small, slightly creased, pony-tailed blond woman in a baseball cap and a gleaming black exercise suit that suggested somewhere a husband dressed in the same outfit.”
“He’d chosen this house because it was not a sabbatical rental: even before–a word he now pronounced as a spondee, like BC–he’d longed to be reunited with his books, art, dishes, the doctor’s table, the old diner table, the various card catalogues, the side table made from an old cheese crate.”
“You couldn’t believe the people who believed that not mentioning sadness was a kind of magic that could stave off the very sadness you didn’t mention–as though grief were the opposite of Rumpelstiltskin, and materialized only at the sound of its own name.”