Sunday, October 13, 2013

Sunday Sentence: The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells by Andrew Sean Greer

Simply put, the best sentence(s) I've read this past week, presented out of context and without commentary.

He came to me, the little boy, on tiny sheep-white socks.  He threw himself into my arms, and I was overcome by the softness of him, the scent of sour milk and jam, the slight crackle of his ironed green romper, embroidered in a wigwam pattern across the front, with its stiff white collar and sleeves so that he was Pilgrim and Indian all in one.