“Here is nature once more at her old game of self-preservation. This train of thought, she perceives, is threatening mere waste of energy, even some collision with reality, for who will ever be able to lift a finger against Whitaker’s… — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
“I don’t know….” He has been saying this over and over, ending every thought with it. Finally I ask him, “What don’t you know?” He pauses. “Lots of things. Your favorite color, for example.” — Eula Biss Copy Share Image
