The snow rots at its own indolent pace, its innards crawling with bubbles of meltwater like wood lice. -John Updike.

There was a silence with things going on in it. - Dorothy Parker.

...as perhaps my mother's anxiety was a perpetual spanner thrown into her works. - Sebastian Barry.

These things sneak up on him for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency. - Margaret Atwood

The blackness he woke to on those nights was sightless and impenetrable. A blackness to hurt your ears with listening. -Cormac McCarthy

I am still I, though it's harder and harder to pronounce that simple pronoun and maintain composure. - Carol Shields

I marvel that we survive our beginnings. - Chaim Potok

For poise, I picked up a stone and threw it at a tree. - JD Salinger

Such a separation, I imagined, could indeed lead to loneliness intense enough to make one conspicuous in bus stations. - Marilynne Robinson