Locks are like this: to break their purpose you must know them fully, as you would know certain faces. You must understand the flick and tick of tumblers, the swivel of nooks in metal. I did not know how to pick a lock. I tapped the first small silver circle.
Gerry stands on the pedals of her bike, rides a slow, controlled slalom down the hill, forces the cars behind her to change lanes. Her muscles shudder with the effort. The horn blares make her smile. At the bottom of the hill, she tucks as the traffic light slips to
"I've invented lives. The man with the drum never told me about himself. I wove a story from his gnarled hands and his bent back. He mumbled to himself in an ancient, distant language. I acted like I knew all about him. The man I invented - I loved him.
From Lisa Moore's Caught: "He would not betray the innermost thing. He didn’t know exactly what the innermost thing was, except it hadn’t been touched in four years of incarceration. Come and get me. They couldn’t get him. It fluttered in and out of view, the innermost thing, consequential and
"He generally took more books out of the library than he was able to read before they were due back. His charging records at the Boston Athenaeum, the Harvard College Library, and the Boston Society Library are not so much a measure of his intake as of his appetite. He