Linda Pastan

“To be the other womanis to be a seasonthat is always about to end,when the air is floweredwith jasmine and peach,and the weather day after dayis flawless,and the forecastis hurricane.”

“Because the night you asked me,the small scar of the quarter moonhad healed - the moon was whole again;because life seemed so short;because life stretched out before melike the halls of a nightmare;because I knew exactly what I wanted;because I knew exactly nothing;because I shed my childhood with my clothes -they both had years of wear in them;because your eyes were darker than my father's;because my father said I could do better;because I wanted badly to say no;because Stanly Kowalski shouted "Stella...;"because you were a door I could slam shut;because endings are written before beginnings;because I knew that after twenty yearsyou'd bring the plants inside for winterand make a jungle we'd sleep in naked;because I had free will;because everything is ordained;I said yes.”

“I'm only leaving you for a handful of days, but it feels as though I'll be gone forever—- the way the door closes behind me with such solidity, the way my suitcase carries everything I'd need for an eternity of traveling light. I've left my hotel number on your desk, instructions about the dog and heating dinner. But like the weather front they warn is on its way with its switchblades of wind and ice, our lives have minds of their own.”

“I have dreamed of our bed as if it were a shore where we would be washed up, not this striped mattress we must cover with sheets. [from "After an Absence"]”

“Just looking at themI grow greedy, as if they werefreshly baked loaveswaiting on their shelvesto be broken open--that oneand that--and I make my choicein a mood of exalted luck,browsing among themlike a cow in sweetest pasture.For life is continuousas long as they waitto be read--these inked pathsopening into the future, pageafter page, every bookits own receding horizon.And I hold them, one in each hand,a curious ballast weighing mehere to earth.”