14
Jun
10

Really Beautiful Writing

Home, by Marilynn Robinson.

Actually, anything by Marilynn Robinson (Housekeeping, Gilead), but this is what I’m reading today.

She went to the porch to watch him walk away down the road. He was too thin and his clothes were weary, weary. There was nothing of youth about him, only the transient vigor of a man acting on a decision he refused to reconsider or regret. No, there might have been some remnant of the old aplomb. Who would bother to be kind to him? A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and as one from whom men hide their face. Ah, Jack.



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