The Matter With Things Novels & Stories

“No… You didn’t really see me all these times… By turning to be a little bit more handsome, more gorgeous, and better-looking as you are, I’m sure you’ll look at me. I’m dead certain you’ll turn to me and see me this time…” “It doesn’t have any connection with being handsome or not, with being better-looking or not. It does nothing with all of those. Feeling matter is an uncontrollable aspect which can’t be driven, can’t be determined, and can’t be moved to anywhere we like. How many times should I tell you, Victor?”

"Which I still intend to do. But differently. Without the thing underneath the work." "The thing being," I said. "The search," he said. "The unresolved question. The sense that everything was preparatory to something else." "And now?" "Now," he said, "the work is the thing. Not the preparation for it." I looked at the camellias. At the dark red one at the end of the row, upright now in its corrected soil. "The last inch," I said. "What?" "Reed said the last inch is where most things go wrong," I said. "When we were fixing the camellia."

The thing you could not have predicted was the arrival, the specific and unexpected shape of the thing that came around the corner and turned out to be the everything. She sat at the table and she thought about the baby coming and the flat about to change and the year ahead and she thought about all of it the way she thought about the true things: simply, without the architecture of management, just the fact of it in the room. The Thursday was the year. The Thursday was the life. The full capacity and the parallel days and the soup

"Do you think we're forgetting anything?" "Probably. But it doesn't matter. The important things are covered." "What are the important things?" "You. Me. People we love. Food. Music. Vows. Everything else is just details." "When did you become so zen?" "Therapy. Also, perspective. None of the details matter if we're not actually ready to commit. And we are. So the rest is just logistics." Friday evening, Clara comes over. "Three weeks. How are you really doing?"

“What do we need to go shopping for?” “Clothes. You don’t own a thing.” I shrug. “Ah, that’s okay. I’m not really a things person.” He turns and looks at me in surprise. “You don’t like things?” I shake my head. “All women like things.” “I’m not all women. I have done without things for most of my life and I know for certain that things don’t make me happy.” His eyes hold mine for an extended time before he finally answers. “We will get you what you need.”

“Good job, good apartment, good friends. I thought I had it all figured out.” “And now?” “Now I don’t know anything.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I have to settle the estate, sell the house probably, figure out what to do with all their stuff. My mom’s closet still smells like her perfume. My dad’s reading glasses are on the coffee table where he left them. How am I supposed to box all that up and make it disappear?” “You don’t have to make it disappear.” Cameron signaled for another round. “You can keep what you want. The stuff that matters.”

But… people’s minds tend to get twisted at the first glance of things. In my case, I wouldn’t blame them, since it actually is true. Throughout the lecture, which isn’t a Dr. Cole lecture, by the way, I keep thinking of several magical ways I could skip time to when Cole would finally walk through those doors and stand on that very podium.

It's a beautiful thing to watch old flames rekindle what was once put out . I have a theory about love finding its way. If things are meant to be they will always find a way and if things were not meant to be then there's a reason why they aren't meant to be. Sometimes what we think might be the worst phase of our Lives matter actually be a rebirth of some sort. You might be walking into something new or discovering a part of yourself that you thought had died and it is slowly coming back to life. They don't know who they're looking at and for you as a person you have to be comfortable with the process of change in order to grow and evolve. You cannot be stagnant all the time. There's a reas

I wonder. He puts his arms behind his head and leans back. “How could you not be? I’m offering you everything you could ever need.” I’m curious to know what’s on the next few pages. I flip through, “It says here that I can’t fire the driver, maid, or groundskeeper.” He nods, “That’s correct.” I’m slightly bothered by that, “What if they do something that warrants a termination.” I try to debate with him.

"The First Dreamer's question consumed something." YES. BEFORE THE QUESTION, THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE. AFTER THE QUESTION, THERE WAS EVERYTHING. BUT THE SOMETHING ELSE DID NOT DISAPPEAR. IT WAS TRANSFORMED. COMPRESSED. HIDDEN BENEATH THE ANSWER LIKE A FOUNDATION BENEATH A BUILDING. The auditor pointed at the black sphere. THAT IS WHAT THE FOURTH DEFECT IS. THE REMAINS OF WHAT EXISTED BEFORE THE QUESTION. THE RAW MATERIAL FROM WHICH EVERYTHING WAS MADE. "And it is conscious?"