“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” -Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Writer. Teacher.
Writer. Teacher.
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” -Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Patricia Ann McNair 
I so remember reading that and feeling like, “Oh my yes – that’s exactly what we do all day long.”
And then after I read all these sentences I wanted to select one to share too but turns out the one I’m thinking of, wasn’t actually a single sentence at all. but a paragraph of short and long poetic phrases which coalesce to form the story.. So, I pulled out one …Here it is:
“There is another gust of wind, a buckle of noise in the air, and the tall cypresses sway.” – Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
Here is a second one, (same book/author) as much a line of story as it is about the act of listening to the story as the reader reads:
“He whispers again, dragging the listening heart of the young nurse beside him to wherever his mind is, into that well of memory he kept plunging into during those months before he died.”
Very nice. Thank you, Hillary.