i like it i like it so much

Nona 2022-03-16 09:01:04

I love the slow movement of the elongated clouds in the sky
I love the sound of the ears of wheat rubbing against each other by the wind
I love the geometry of the light shining through the cracks in the windows on the wooden floor
I love the water droplets hitting the branches the sound
I like humiliation but powerless to defend themselves in the eyes
I like watching stupefied vague silhouette through the glass
I like the darkness faint light nodded slightly treacherous smile
I like inadvertently looked up and saw the clouds Variety

View more about The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford reviews

Extended Reading
  • Clarabelle 2022-03-23 09:01:45

    Although it took five days to read it. Can't sleep every time.

  • Itzel 2022-03-24 09:01:41

    Good and evil always pay off

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford quotes

  • [first lines]

    Narrator: He was growing into middle age, and was living then in a bungalow on Woodland Avenue. He installed himself in a rocking chair and smoked a cigar down in the evenings as his wife wiped her pink hands on an apron and reported happily on their two children. His children knew his legs, the sting of his mustache against their cheeks. They didn't know how their father made his living, or why they so often moved. They didn't even know their father's name. He was listed in the city directory as Thomas Howard. And he went everywhere unrecognized and lunched with Kansas City shopkeepers and merchants, calling himself a cattleman or a commodities investor, someone rich and leisured who had the common touch. He had two incompletely healed bullet holes in his chest and another in his thigh. He was missing the nub of his left middle finger and was cautious, lest that mutilation be seen. He also had a condition that was referred to as "granulated eyelids" and it caused him to blink more than usual as if he found creation slightly more than he could accept. Rooms seemed hotter when he was in them. Rains fell straighter. Clocks slowed. Sounds were amplified. He considered himself a Southern loyalist and guerrilla in a Civil War that never ended. He regretted neither his robberies, nor the seventeen murders that he laid claim to. He had seen another summer under in Kansas City, Missouri and on September 5th in the year 1881, he was thirty-four-years-old.

  • Narrator: And so it went, Jesse was increasingly cavalier. Merry, moody, fey, unpredictable. He camouflaged his depressions and derangements with masquerades of extreme cordiality, courtesy, and goodwill towards others. But Even as he jested or tickled his boy in the ribs, Jesse would look over at Bob with melancholy eyes as if the two were meshed in an intimate communication. Bob was certain that the man had unriddled him; had seen through his reasons for coming along; that Jesse could forecast each of Bob's possible moves and inclinations and was only acting the innocent in order to lull Bob into a stupid tranquility and miscalculation.