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From the inside cover of this particular book, an ad jumped out at me. I immediately knew that it would deliver me from my own enemies, most prominent among them Herr Schneider, my swimming instructor, who gave meaning to his life by ridiculing me in front of my classmates.
By Manfred MietheApril 1992Getting mugged in Central Park, doing angel dust, driving into a telephone pole
By Our ReadersApril 1992September 1991We do not have too much intellect and too little soul, but too little precision in matters of the soul.
Robert Musil
The only thing more complete than this moment will be the loss of it, as memory repudiates everything. But why complain, when even the complaint will be forgotten?
By Sy SafranskySeptember 1991For a long time the whole idea of God is bewildering to a little girl, but in a dreamy and faraway fashion, you know him. Like the moon and the stars across the night’s long distance, you love and fear him.
By Dana BranscumAugust 1991The landfill under the office where I work holds the decomposed bones of old ships and piers, derelicts not worth repairing, sunk in the harbor. Our building has piles sunk straight down to bedrock, supposed to keep us standing when the ground all around quivers and liquefies.
By Andrea ReshemJune 1991Then my father saw me. Liam got up — to keep him from me, I think. What chance did he think he had against such hate? My father threw him down again.
By Mary Ann McGuiganJanuary 1991Picture days in grade school, summers on fire lookouts, Saturday afternoons at the movies
By Our ReadersDecember 1990Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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