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“Meanwhile months and years disappeared. At twenty-eight I was still without a husband, still an eligible virgin . . . It was spring—free, warm. My heart ached so, I thought I’d go crazy . . . the…
Saturday is the worst of the week. Whenever I touch anything on this day, straightway there comes a voice: Don’t do that, today it’s a sin.
“Sin?” I ask.
Says Mother: “Sin is that for which the Good…
Another week had passed. The two men had just gone off together. With something of an annoyed laugh, his mother went to the door and stood fingering the catch of the lock. Finally she lifted it…
Rue Sainte-Catherine, people turned as we passed. Probably because of my father’s purple suit, his Kentucky green shirt and the same old shoes with the astrakhan spats. I fondly…
The old man Moshe Sefardnick sits in the rear of the place on a camp stool. There is never any work for him to do and indeed he is too old for it, too bewildered. The old man has never been able to…
Hester sat down quietly next to her mother, whose sewing went on and on, a mild substitute for conversation. For a while, Hester watched the long, important-looking shadows that encroached upon the…
There is a certain place where dumb-waiters boom, doors slam, dishes crash; every window is a mother’s mouth bidding the street shut up, go skate somewhere else, come home. My voice is the loudest. […
I am not aware that the infancy of Vivian Grey was distinguished by any extraordinary incident. The solicitude of the most affectionate of mothers, and the…
“Well, as you know already, the story is about Esterka, the daughter of the Jew to whom this house belongs. She was ten years old when he came here, and tall of her age, with black hair and large blue…
[…] Statistically speaking, in any given week at the school, the rabbi had once calculated, approximately one quarter of these girls, about seventy-five girls in all, had their periods. Could anyone…