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Satin and lace and brown velvet and the faint odor of violets. That was all which was left to him of his love.

William Maxwell

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William Maxwell
Odor
Lace
Violet
Velvet
Faint
Brown
Left
Violets
Love
Satin

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The reason life is so strange is that so often people have no choice.
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Sometimes she goes out to work as a practical nurse, and comes home and sits by the kitchen table soaking her feet in a pan of hot water and Epsom salts. When she gets into bed and the springs creak under her weight, she groans with the pleasure of lying stretched out on an object that understands her so well.
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The view after seventy is breathtaking. What is lacking is someone, anyone, of the older generation to whom you can turn when you want to satisfy your curiosity about some detail of the landscape of the past. There is no longer any older generation. You have become it, while your mind was mostly on other matters
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People often ask themselves the right questions. Where they fail is in answering the questions they ask themselves, and even there they do not fail by much...But it takes time, it takes humility and a serious reason for searching.
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Your reader is at least as bright as you are
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I had inadvertently walked through a door that I shouldn’t have gone through and couldn’t get back to the place I hadn’t meant to leave.
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My father represented authority, which meant—to me—that he could not also represent understanding.
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If I had had to write only about imaginary people, I would have had to close up my typewriter. I wrote about my life in less and less disguise as I grew older, and finally with no disguise - except the disguise we create for ourselves, which is self-deception.
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Happiness is the light on the water. The water is cold and dark and deep.
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I am the cat that walks alone.
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Who knows what oversensitive is, considering all there is to be sensitive to.
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