Frieda in Taos, in News From the World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox
The desert twilight fell like gauze over us, the stable, the cabins we glimpsed near the road. The deep quiet stilled my excitement. My thoughts had the formless drift of wind-stirred clouds in an expanse of sky, a feeling I had not experienced since childhood.
Frieda in Taos, in News From the World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox Later, after we became friends, I saw more distinctly the details of his face, its hint of secrecy, its changeability, and what I sensed was an ardent hope for affection. In the uncertainty of his smile, I felt a shock of recognition, but unlike my own smile, his was unguarded. I learned quickly that neither of us was open with others unless we felt in them the same hope--although I've made mistakes now and then.
The Tender Night, in News From the World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox So much happened after dark that I began to see the street as a movie set, distance flattening horror as it usually does, turning the suffering of others into a troubling but nevertheless absorbing spectacle.
Light on the Dark Side, in News From the World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox He was sharp about people, but I think he didn't understand personal relations. He understood himself and he didn't — true of most of us, I suppose.
Clem, in News From The World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox The brain is an organ of endlessly challenging borders. It is so unknown. Yet when some function is gone, we are likely to know it at once. In my case, after the Jerusalem assault, it was the geometry of the house I had lived in until I was six years old that I could no longer reconstruct in memory.
Cigarette, from News From the World: Stories & Essays, Paula Fox |
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