The clown had put the platter of coke on his head, like a waiter carrying a tray.

The passion and blind devotion are no longer. The ending is near.

I had just finished reading Francoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse and he had imagined me as Odile from André Maurois’ Climats.

He said it was politics disguised as debauchery.

Does he know I intend to murder him?

Four writer/translator teams work together to create a single story in multiple languages.

It would be difficult to find a single man whose back had not been scarred by the whip of the thakur or his agents.

When I bought this aquarium I didn't realize I was preparing my own casket.

Although his name wasn’t Gujji to begin with, he was Gujji now.

These were not the eyes of a dog.

“Damn it! What the hell is going on?”

We are here to teach, not to meddle in the affairs of other people.”

“There must be a misunderstanding.

He has never looked less like a potential father.

“I’ve been dreaming about this all my life, to kiss the Little Dipper.

He swam through the thick white sea and he could no longer feel his heart.

Love has been a tightrope lately.

Behind them were twenty, thirty, maybe even fifty babies.

In the end, the shooter calls the shots.

Trixie’s colleagues were all frantically busy and unfailingly rude.

I write my letter with no idea where to send it.

He pleaded for him to believe him.

I looked like a Jew, an Islamist, a Portuguese, an Iranian, an idiot.

“You need to take your clothes off,” she continued.

In honor of the first Internationalization Campaign, they decided to put on an Apple Pageant.

It wasn't their voices that they'd lost, it was all memory of their language.

It was on that afternoon that the cat began talking to me.

He’s the third white soldier I’ve met this month.

I didn’t know Dori’s wounds, and Dori didn’t know mine—perhaps that’s why we could see each other as we were in that moment.

One day this violation will be in the past, consigned to oblivion, long forgotten.

In the wilderness, you live in a simple house, you wake to your beloved’s face, you almost exclusively hear her voice.

'Mantique thought today at sunrise would be a good time to kill herself.

The present, very often, takes its definitive shape in the past.

The only things Margo had left were his appetite and ground beef.

Stalin didn’t like this Estonia that he saw from the car window.

One shouldn’t expect more from novelists than disjointed emanations without guaranteed outcomes.

A smell of putrefaction, and the city with lit-up buildings was waking, coated in shades of pink.

It was too late to forget.

“Comments are unnecessary,” the judge interrupts again.

Bachelor of Philosophy Jan Kirdey Biront had some personal accounts to settle with God.

One sweltering summer morning, I wake up to find I’m Lionel Messi.

Oh God. The woman has vaporized.

it can end whenever, wherever.

It’s because we don’t speak their language. That’s why they’re defiling our food.

By the time I’d answered all his questions I recognized him: János Hell.

My parents know more about the Qahatika Indians than about my son.

Lynn also had an ideal personality: calm and reserved.

How can the earth bear such vile creatures?

“Pull yourself together, music man.”

The technological age regulates social relations with its robotic fingers, and it does not give a damn about your naturally noble spirit.

Who needs Kazakh? We are moving to Russia anyway.

She searched for an answer, embarrassed for the first time in her life at having to say what she was about to.

“Have you been able to forget me?”

I cannot serve a glass of water to a Brahmin’s son.

It was late. Who knew where Bhootnath could buy liquor at this hour?

“I don’t like to be lumped in with every woman who wears a scarf on her head.”

My finger is pressing the trigger.

Skin has a memory.

In her eyes there smiles the child she once was.

He was just a face, a hand, and the knife.