She serves me a piece of it a few minutes out of the oven. A little steam rises from the slits on top. Sugar and spice - cinnamon - burned into the crust. But she's wearing these dark glasses in the kitchen at ten o'clock in the morning - everything nice - as she watches me break off a piece, bring it to my mouth, and blow on it. My daughter's kitchen, in winter. I fork the pie in and tell myself to stay out of it. She says she loves him. No way could it be worse.
Isak Dinesen said that she wrote a little every day, without hope and without despair. I like that. - Raymond Carver
Isak Dinesen said that she wrote a little every day, without hope and without despair. I like that.
- Raymond Carver
It's strange. You never start out life with the intention of becoming a bankrupt or an alcoholic or a cheat and a thief. Or a liar. - Raymond Carver
It's strange. You never start out life with the intention of becoming a bankrupt or an alcoholic or a cheat and a thief. Or a liar.
Dreams, you know, are what you wake up from. - Raymond Carver
Dreams, you know, are what you wake up from.
That's all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones. - Raymond Carver
That's all we have, finally, the words, and they had better be the right ones.
Write about what you know, and what do you know better than your own secrets? - Raymond Carver
Write about what you know, and what do you know better than your own secrets?
there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails. - Raymond Carver
there isn't enough of anything as long as we live. But at intervals a sweetness appears and, given a chance prevails.
You're a beautiful drunk, daughter. But you're a drunk. - Raymond Carver
You're a beautiful drunk, daughter. But you're a drunk.
Art doesn't have to do anything. It just has to be there for the fierce pleasure we take in doing it. - Raymond Carver
Art doesn't have to do anything. It just has to be there for the fierce pleasure we take in doing it.
And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth. - Raymond Carver
And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.
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