Judith Postley

“This evening I spied her in the back orchard. I decided to sacrifice one of my better old shirts and carried it out to her. The weather’s been warm of late. Buds on the apple trees are ready to burst. Usually by this time of the year, at that time of day, the back orchard is full of screaming children. Damut’s boys were the only two. They were on the terrace below her, running through the slanted sunlight, chasing each other around tree trunks. She stood above them, like a merlin watching rabbits play.”
― K. Ritz, Sheever's Journal, Diary of a Poison Master

“The two extremes of secular life. Stoic acceptance and gay defiance in the face of—nothing; in the face of indifference, boiling violence, inexorable chaos; in the face of—the Other Side. Two hundred years of this. Enough. Jews must return to Torah. The world must return to God. There must be a center to human life or, God forbid, there will be no human life left on this planet. A man may not live alone.”
― Chaim Potok, The Gift of Asher Lev: A Novel

“Americans have a love affair with weak coffee.’ ‘And you’re a coffee expert, too,’ Gwen said, cutting a thick slice of apple pie.”
― Gary Clemenceau, Banker's Holiday: A Novel of Fiscal Irregularity

“The man more closely resembled a bear than a beggar. He was huge, with a full red beard and a mane of red hair. He entered the cottage without bothering to knock, and as he did so the cottage was illuminated for a moment by an intense red glow. It was just as in Raimund’s dreams.”
― Robert Reid, The Thief