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“I’m going to do you to death,” he said. “How about that. Not because you’re pretty, either, because you’re not, but because you can’t stop me. How about that.”
By Linda DanielsJanuary 1990Anna Karenina, the Peace Corps, long-distance rates
By Our ReadersJanuary 1990November 1989I respect kindness to human beings first of all, and kindness to animals. I don’t respect the law; I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society, except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper, and old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.
Brendan Behan
When we got to the pond, he stopped calling her name. The hole was black, and little black waves splashed against the jagged edges of the broken ice. Father took one step onto the pond, but had to jump back.
By Candace PerryNovember 1989We lived in a walk-up apartment house. The three of us would anticipate his footsteps, listening for them up the tiled stairs and across the tiled floor. He had a variety of walks: a confident, sober stride; a penitential limp; a self-assured, rocking swagger.
By Edward WahlOctober 1989Hitting your sister, watching the rice boil, jumping over the subway turnstiles
By Our ReadersOctober 1989The double-entry ledger system, pliés, a workable bicycle
By Our ReadersSeptember 1989Both of them hit me so frequently that I still flinch at sudden movements. I learned in my bones that alcoholics don’t have relationships; they take hostages.
By Lily CollettAugust 1989Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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