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....Worthy would-be worlds of words, whorls of working wonder.

Jonathan Safran Foer

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Jonathan Safran Foer
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: February 21
Novelist
Writer
Washington
District of Columbia
Working
Words
Would
World
Worlds
Worthy
Wonder

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I got tired, I told him. Not worn out, but worn through. Like one of those wives who wakes up one morning and says I can't bake any more bread.
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I'd lost count of the disappointments.
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I felt suddenly shy. I was not used to shy. I was used to shame. Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want.
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What were we spending so much time doing if not getting to know each other?
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It can be challenge enough to have to eat with myself.
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I know lots and lots and lots of vegetarians who think it's perfectly all right to kill animals for food to eat, but don't do it because they think all the ways in which it's done are wrong.
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Grandfather informs me that is not possible.
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Books are slow, books are quiet. The Internet is fast and loud.
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Only someone who'd never been an animal would put up a sign saying not to feed them.
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Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.
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Oh, I'd say I like a meal as much as anybody. But I find a certain kind of foodiness silly, gluttonous and embarrassing.
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Instead of singing in the shower, I would write out the lyrics of my favourite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs.
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She saw through the shell of me into the center of me
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I watched the sheets breathe when she breathed, like how Dad used to say that trees inhale when people exhale, because I was too young to understand the truth about biological processes.
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Why I'm not where you are ...
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I zipped myself all the way into the sleeping bag of myself, not because I was hurt, and not because I had broken something, but because they were cracking up.
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