this is why I love words.
excerpt that is an excerpt. I found it in The New Yorker article on Yasmina Reza by Judith Thurman, she found it in Reza's book on Nicolas Sarkozy, "Dawn, Dusk or Night."
Flying to Toulouse.
I say I still love the men I have loved.
He shrugs as if I had uttered something incredibly stupid.
-Yes, I assure you. I have never stopped loving the men I've loved.
-Oh, please!
-I still love them, but differently.
-It's all in the "differently," my pretty one. Don't take me for a moron. Once you quality love, it ceases to exist.
every once in a while I catch a phrase or thought that reminds me why I wanted to be a writer.