“The hunger as big as a bear.”
-Alberto Ríos
The Simile Museum
February 17, 2015
“She smiled at him like they were about to rob a bank together.”
-Rachel Kushner
February 14, 2015
“The baby’s eyes were dark, almost black, and when I nursed her in the middle of the night, she’d stare at me with a stunned, shipwrecked look as if my body were an island she’d washed up on.”
-Jenny Offil
February 12, 2015
“So. What do you think? Are you convinced now I’m as crazy as a tulip or a taxi? As vagrant as a cloud?”
-Sandra Cisneros
February 4, 2015
“He is gone and the water rushes up behind me like a couple of police officers with their blue lights flashing, with their steel blue guns drawn.”
-Samantha Hunt
February 1, 2015
“Profound was Gary’s relief the next morning as he bumped and glided, like a storm-battered yacht, into the safe harbor of his work week.”
-Jonathan Franzen
January 27, 2015
“There were huge beds of oysters here, seals in the harbor, in the woods inexhaustible game. This great glacial cut with its nuptial bays, the coves of wild celery and rice, this majestic river. The birds, like punctuation, are crossing in level flight. They seem to approach slowly, accelerate, pass overhead like arrows. The sky has no color. A feeling of rain.”
-James Salter
January 22, 2015
“She’ll look briefly at your writing, then back up at you with a face as blank as a donut.”
-Lorrie Moore
January 19, 2015
“They rode on. The white noon saw them through the waste like a ghost army, so pale they were with dust, like shades of figures erased upon a board. The wolves loped paler yet and grouped and skittered and lifted their lean snouts on the air. At night the horses were fed by hand from sacks of meal and watered from buckets. There was no more sickness. The survivors lay quietly in that cratered void and watched the whitehot stars go rifling down the dark. Or slept with their alien hearts beating in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon the face of the planet Anareta, clutched to a namelessness wheeling in the night. They moved on and the iron of the wagon-tired grew polished bright as chrome in the pumice. To the south the blue cordilleras stood footed in their paler image on the sand like reflections in a lake and there were no wolves now.”
-Cormac McCarthy
January 15, 2015
And the days are not full enough
Are the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass.
-Ezra Pound
The Simile Museum 