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Sunday Sentence

Leo Tolstoy in 1897.

 

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Boredom: the desire for desires.

Source: Leo Tolstoy, in a presumably translated epigraph at the start of Craig Brown’s Ninety-Nine Glimpses of Princess Margaret.

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Sunday Sentence

Cover of Julie Schumacher’s novel THE SHAKESPEARE REQUIREMENT.

 

 

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

“Because they are writing classes,” he wrote; the form was returned to him.

Source: Julie Schumacher, The Shakespeare Requirement: A Novel.

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.” Continue reading ›

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Fragments are my wholes.

Source: Ilya Kaminsky, “Searching for a Lost Odessa — and a Deaf Childhood: A Poet Returns to the City of His Birth” (The New York Times Magazine)

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Poets come in the evening into the Old City
and they emerge from it pockets stuffed with images
and metaphors and little well-constructed parables
and crepuscular similes from among columns and crypts,
from within darkening fruit
and delicate filigree of hammered hearts.

Source: Yehuda Amichai, “Jerusalem, 1967” (trans. Stephen Mitchell), in The Poetry of Yehuda Amichai (edited by Robert Alter).

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

I want to run away, at moments like that, to someplace where there is no humidity, where the light is golden over the hills and the specter of all that we have survived and died by is not present in every flag, every street name, every monument, every vote.

Source: Jesmyn Ward, “My True South” (TIME)

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