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Natalie So
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"We are put on earth a little space / that we may learn to bear the beams of love" -William Blake
"We are put on earth a little space / that we may learn to bear the beams of love" -William Blake

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this is The Life-Writer by David Constantine
The Life-Writer by David Constantine is a story within a story. It is the story of Katrin as she mourns the death of her husband, Eric, and it is the story of Eric as a young man, as he falls in love with a French woman named Monique. The novel opens with E...

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"North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses o...

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A kind of thrill—to lie on a road and flatten yourself, white fur like a ball of winter, like the March blossoms on the fruit trees, each one folded in like the fledgling that never made it from the nest. They do this when they feel threatened, remain motio...

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"This beach in his chain of water disappointed him absurdly, and he felt like some explorer who seeks a torrential headwater and finds a dead stream. He was disappointed and mystified. It was common enough to go away for the summer but no one ever drained h...

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"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all o...

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“Think of me then, Katrin, never forget me then, that lad gaily assuming the land and its roads and traffic would never be anything but kind to him…”   “The running colloquy with him distressed her more than it comforted her. Every other person lapsed, she ...

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I can never leave all the kindness I have felt in this apartment, but if a big black iron wrecking ball comes flying toward me, zoop, out I go! For there must be kindness somewhere else in the world, maybe even out of it, though I'm not crazy about the empt...

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this is my favorite sentence in the history of all sentences
"I'm sure we were all feeling blessed on this ferryboat among the humps of very green—in the sunlight almost cooly burning like phosphorus—islands, and the water of inlets winking in the sincere light of day, under a sky as blue and brainless as the love of...

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The stain of love Is upon the world. Yellow, yellow, yellow, It eats into the leaves, Smears with saffron The horned branches that lean Heavily Against a smooth purple sky.    There is no light— Only a honey-thick stain That drips from leaf to leaf And limb...

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"She always wanted to be the kind of person who could play the “Moonlight” Sonata.  She buries her failure at this, as she buries all her failures, in reading.  The wine is finished; she sucks a lollipop that only tastes red.  She reads for a long time unti...
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