We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
We use cookies to improve our services and remember your choices for future visits. For more information see our Privacy Policy and Terms of Use.
“He says he believes God is a Yorkshire terrier.” My sister Nance’s voice hissed across the long-distance lines.
By Sarah E. BewleyAugust 1994May 1994Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.
Ernest Hemingway
The language is so much bigger than I am, so much older, more beautiful. How can I hope to tame it, cram it into a style?
By Sy SafranskyMay 1994I had come to Yellow Springs for the Antioch Writers Workshop, an annual event on the Antioch College campus. My college writing teacher and advisor, the poet Jud Jerome, was an integral part of the workshop.
By Ruth RudnerMay 1994A fortune cookie, Mother Teresa, dreams of grandeur
By Our ReadersMarch 1994January 1994You see I thought love got easier over the years so it didn’t hurt so bad when it hurt, or feel so good when it felt good. I thought it smoothed out and old people hardly noticed it. I thought it curled up and died, I guess. Now I saw it rear up like a whip and lash.
Louise Erdrich
The Sun tries to be different: a journal that lives at the margins of popular culture without making a religion out of it, that acknowledges our kinship with one another by what we don’t print as well as what we do.
By Sy SafranskyJanuary 1994Writing is something you do alone in a room. Copy that sentence and put it on your wall because there’s no way to exaggerate or overemphasize this fact.
By Michael VenturaJanuary 1994Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
Subscribe Today