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Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories Quotes

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Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories by John Updike
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Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories Quotes Showing 1-5 of 5
“What is the past, after all, but a vast sheet of darkness in which a few moments, pricked apparently at random, shine?”
John Updike, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories
“A woman’s beauty lies, not in any exaggeration of the specialized zones, nor in any general harmony that could be worked out by means of the sectio aurea or a similar aesthetic superstition; but in the arabesque of the spine. The curve by which the back modulates into the buttocks. It is here that grace sits and rides a woman’s body. ”
John Updike, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories
“The assurance from the dictionary had melted in the night.”
John Updike, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories
“He lost his appetite for reading. He was afraid of being overwhelmed again. In mystery novels people died like dolls being discarded; in science fiction enormities of space and time conspired to crush the humans ; and even in P.G. Wodehouse he felt a hollowness, a turning away from reality that was implicitly bitter, and became explicit in the comic figures of futile parsons.”
John Updike , Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories
“Beyond doubt, I am a splendid fellow. In the autumn, winter and spring, I execute the duties of a student of divinity; in the summer I disguise myself in my skin and become a lifeguard. My slightly narrow and gingerly hirsute but not necessarily unmanly chest becomes brown. My smooth back turns the colour of caramel, which, in conjunction with the whipped cream of my white pith helmet, gives me, some of my teenage satellites assure me, a delightfully edible appearance. My legs, which I myself can study, cocked as they are before me while I repose on my elevated wooden throne, are dyed a lustreless maple walnut that accentuates their articulate strength. Correspondingly, the hairs of my body are bleached blond, so that my legs have the pointed elegance of, within the flower, umber anthers dusted with pollen.”
John Updike, Pigeon Feathers and Other Stories