Paul Lisicky
The Burning House
Etruscan Press paperback

On smell:

…her hair, which smelled of grapefruit and smoke. (35)

Practical, pleasant smells came off her skin: vaporizer, toothpaste, Vaseline Intensive Care. (43)

I loved their smells: laundry soap, herbal tea, patchouli, lavender. (47)

On sound:

She laughed, a quick quizzical laugh, down through her nostrils. If a honeybee could have laughed, that was the sound of it. (112)

On color:

The light outside the window went through stages: first the yellow of sugarless lemonade, then a pale, in-between color. Putty? Oyster? (92)

On adding depth to description by using contradiction:

Joan lay on the couch with an arm thrown over her face, a posture both carefree and desperate at once. (114)

If time could be sweetness, this was it. Sunday night, the sweetest night of the week. And lonesome too, slightly blue. All that work about to begin again, grinding and dull, on the other side of sleep. (49)

On perfect metaphors:

I lay back on the bench, still shaking in some deep basement of the self. (25)

She simply needed to gather the house around herself, and to head down the hall to her study. (36)