When I fall asleep at night, I turn away from gazing at my husband beside me to gaze upon the faces of our children, in plain silver frames on our bedside table (that is, unless one of the three of them has decided to invade our bed, in which case I am gazing at their faces from far too close up).

WSJ: Family Photos: Hide or Show?

His lunch, which he ate on his own in an enormous, empty dining room while reading a book under the absentminded gaze of the elderly maid, and the black-and-white gaze of his deceased wife looking out from photographs in ornate silver frames, was light: soup and a small portion of fish and mashed potatoes, some of which he would allow to go cold.

NEWYORKER: The Insufferable Gaucho