Jane Bowles

Everything is Nice

Notify me when the book’s added
To read this book, upload an EPUB or FB2 file to Bookmate. How do I upload a book?
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    I was fairly poetic in the old days.
    Much love, J.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    Also there is nothing new except that I don’t always know which is the stroke and which is the writer’s block.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    Oddly enough I still love Morocco best, though I do not admire it more. I think and think about what it means to me, and as usual have come to no conclusion. I dream about it too, in color, all the time.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    I was disturbed by that as I have, since seeing you last, turned into an admirer of hers, and it would be nice for me to be admired by an established and talented American writer, instead of by my friends and no one else.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    I’ve always liked it when something that I’ve looked at every day suddenly seems strange and unfamiliar.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    I can’t picture anything being any different than it is.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    Maybe that’s not the kind of beautiful thing you meant. Maybe you didn’t want to hear about snakes. Maybe you meant more like what beautiful things do I love that the world loves. [He does not answer.] I told you, Gabriel. Tea-roses.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    I don’t know. Not as much as some people. I never think about looking up unless someone says Beryl, look at the moon! When I’m by myself I never look at the moon. I don’t know. I guess I’m not too keen on it.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    Because I’m aware of the estrangement, as you call it, and they aren’t.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    “They are not costumes,” he said distinctly. “They’re simply the clothes people wear.”
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    My horse was frozen like a stone
    A long, long time ago.
    Frozen near the flower bed
    In the wintry sun.
    Or maybe in the night time
    Or maybe not at all.
    My horse runs across the fields
    On many afternoons.
    Black as dirt and filled with blood
    I glimpse him fleeing toward the woods
    And then not at all.
    Фроhas quoted5 years ago
    It would be so lovely if you were like me.
Drag & drop your files (not more than 5 at once)