Diane Vadino: Smart Girls Like Me

Sometimes, and now is one of those times, it feels like I just want, so badly, for anyone to love me, t hat the fact that this puts me at a disadvantage, with everyone, is nowhere near reason enough to stop it.

p130

Diane Vadino: Smart Girls Like Me

“Are you in line for something?”

“Hell, I think,” he says.

p130

Diane Vadino: Smart Girls Like Me

I look exactly the same.  I would rather have gone on believing that I had untapped lipstick potential, that I could be as beautiful as that girl at Rite Aid, if only I would conform to overly rigid standards of beauty, and now that I have at least attempted to conform, I want teh benefit, the payoff, and yet I look exactly the same.

p119

Denise Levertov: Witness

Sometimes the mountain

is hidden from me in veils

of cloud, sometimes

I am hidden from the mountain

in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue

when I forget or refuse to go

down to the shore or a few yards

up the road, on a clear day,

to reconfirm

that witnessing presence.

 

Lynne Cox: A Dip in the Cold

The local people looked as if they were trying to make sense of what they were seeing.  They had always been told that you would die in a matter of minutes if you fell into the water with your clothes on, and now they were watching someone in a swimsuit climbing out of the water.

(The New Yorker, April 21, 2008, p56)

Lynne Cox: A Dip in the Cold

I paused in mid-stroke when I noticed a scarlet jellyfish the size of an apple moving toward me.  The tentatcles, fire red and thick as spaghetti strands, trailed behind; they were six or seven feet long, and I knew that they would hurt if I touched them.  As I swerved right, my left hand grazed the dome and I recoiled.  Staring down into the sea, I saw hundreds of these red jellyfish.  They were beautiful–like flowers blossoming in an underwater garden–and terrifying.  I pulled my hands in tight under my body, trying to get higher in the water so that I wouldn’t get stung.

A tentatcle grazed the soft underside of my arm, and if felt like a very bad bee sting.  Reacting, I swung wide and hit something else.  It appeared to be a small clear jellyfish, but it had four creased sides that were edged with purple and glowed.  It looked magical.  I stopped to examine it more closely, treading water as I tried to understand how it was propelling itself.  I coldn’t see any kind of cilia or jet, but I saw another clear jellyfish, this one edged with glowing pink, and another that was edged with neon green. 

(The New Yorker, April 21, 2008, p64)

Susanna Sonnenberg: Her Last Death

Responsibility, he taught me, granted immunity. (p141)

Susanna Sonnenberg: Her Last Death

I hardly felt him, and the intercourse was brief, a bland interruption of my fantasies.  (p122)

Susanna Sonnenberg: Her Last Death

I sat in class with “kiss!” in my belly, such a jolt and a jump, such a good, at-last feeling.  I answered questions but couldn’t hear my own voice.  That kiss was loud.  (p95)

Mark Lilla: The Politcs of God

Theology is, after all, a set of reasons people give themselves for the way things are and the way they ought to be.

“The Politics of God,” The New York Times Magazine, August 19, 2007, p.30.