The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing which can seem infinite like a tunnel whose end you cant see whose beginning youve forgotten but in the sudden realization that something finite has passed...

The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing which can seem infinite like a tunnel whose end you cant see whose beginning youve forgotten but in the sudden realization that something finite has passed and is irretrievable.
Joyce Carol Oates

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A mouth of no distinction but well practiced before I entered my teens in irony. For what is irony but the repository of hurt And what is hurt but the repository of hope
- Joyce Carol Oates
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Love commingled with hate is more powerful than love. Or hate.
- Joyce Carol Oates

The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing which can seem infinite like a tunnel whose end you cant see whose beginning youve forgotten but in the sudden realization that something finite has passed and is irretrievable. Joyce Carol Oates

The strangeness of Time. Not in its passing which can seem infinite like a tunnel whose end you cant see whose beginning youve forgotten but in the sudden realization that something finite has passed and is irretrievable.
Joyce Carol Oates