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The Sun Magazine

Essays, Memoirs, and True Stories

Perpetual Motion

Every spring for ten years, Da told me he was dying. The pattern was always the same. For the next three months he’d plan and revise his funeral, then patiently await his demise on July 15, the anniversary of Mother’s death. Despite his determination, the worst illness he could muster was a tiny patch of skin cancer one year, which the doctor removed during an office visit.

I Don’t Have All Night

Yet even here, at one of the more innovative schools in the country, graduation was still . . . graduation. Even here, at the end of the most violent century in history, graduates were exhorted in the usual ways to step across the mass graves and the poisoned waters and the broken vows. Step lively, the speakers told them.



I wondered what kind of food could drop from the sky like dew. Something that would melt on the tongue like a kiss and fill the body with strength.

Readers Write


Painting a fence, celebrating the silver anniversary of a friendship, running through the house naked

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸


Magazines all too often lead to books and should be regarded by the prudent as the heavy petting of literature.

Fran Lebowitz

More Quotations ▸
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