I went into the desert to forget about you. But the sand was the color of your hair. The desert sku was… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty.… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“Phyllida's hair was where her power resided. It was expensively set into a smooth dome, like a band shell for the presentation… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
I was thinking how amazing it was that the world contained so many lives. Out in these streets people were embroiled in… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
Bubble gum angels swooped from top margins or scraped their wings between teeming paragraphs, maidens with golden hair dripped sea blue tears… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls, but only that we had loved… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
My family suffered. My hair turned up in every corner, every drawer, every meal. Even in the rice puddings Tessie made, covering… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
The trees like lungs filling with air My sister, the mean one, pulling my hair — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“Only the Lisbon house remained dark, a tunnel, an emptiness, past our smoke and flames.” — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“She had just started living like a grown-up and she'd never felt more vulnerable, frightened or confused in her life.” — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
It's often said that a traumatic experience early in life marks a person forever, pulls her out of line, saying, "Stay there. Don't move. — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“The window was still open,” Mr Lisbon said. “I don’t think we’d ever remembered to shut it. It was all clear to me. I… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
I was aware that you weren't supposed to write about suburbia, that it was undignified in some way, the subject matter not momentous enough.… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“Dr. Armonson stitched up her wrist wounds. Within five minutes of the transfusion he declared her out of danger. Chucking her under the chin,… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
“I don't approve of women driving, mind you. And now they get to vote!" He grumbled to himself. "Remember that play we saw ("The… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
I know that attaching memories to books may be going out of the world, but while it lasts, it's a strong record of your… — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
I spend most of every day writing. I like to write every day if I can. I don't start extremely early. — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
Maybe the best proof that the language is patriarchal is that it oversimplifies feeling. — Jeffrey Eugenides Copy Share Image
