“She used to believe that the world was big, and she was small. She had since realised that the world was far, far bigger than she ever thought imaginable, and she was teeny-tiny within it. This was mysteriously okay.”
“When you love everything and everyone, you fall in love so fast that it takes an awful lot of excruciating thinking to discern what is right for you and not just innate generosity. People like that must produce the difficult currency of thought. Bennett always needed to assess a situation further in order to determine what was good for him. No path was ever a waste, he thought, but if only there was one path that suited him above all. He hated this kind of thinking. It was tempting to distract oneself and go fall in love with something new down the street, so he usually had to find a place to confine himself. Bennett used to get himself arrested every couple of nights for this reason. Jail cells were quiet enough for him to think in peace. Plus, handcuffs restrained him from performing his next act. And sometimes he’d shiver, not out of the coldness of the bleak underground, but from the complication of untying the chains of the tangled human veritas.”
“Men should not sleep on beds; they shall sleep wherever their tired knees gave up. We are stars! And stars produce heat! Let that never translate to a boring life. There is one object in the universe that eats up more light than any other design and that is a mattress that loves you too much. Things can kill without being crafty. The bedsheets are warm and kind and yet their comfort has killed more man than any murderous hand in history. A star that knows it is a star looks like a person who is always in transformation, figuring things out, exploring identities, and making a mess. They brush their hair back and rub their eyes. A heart in debate. A tongue that agreed on humor. Tired feet. A juggled mind. He might be a police officer turned trapeze artist turned pilot. A father who is also a volunteer, a brother, a warrior, a companion, a neighbor, a rival, and a student. We can see sweat leave our pores and so grow discouraged that we cannot see the progress of internal efforts. But do not be disheartened. Our souls do sweat. It just looks a lot like mundane life incidents that break us, such as the first step of the morning or simply walking home again.”
“The pillow is that devil thing to give us dreams at night so we don’t have to follow our real ones in the day. The blanket is that ghost who gives us a glimpse of what it’s like to be dead—peaceful, but too early. So run away. Turn left. Shiver in the arctic. Burn in the Sahara. Sweat in a subway. Anything, but the sheets.”
“Life is as uneventful as looking up right now and staring at your space. How dare men advise courage! It’s imagination we need. Our battlefield is not one of swords and smoke, but of quietness and boredom. If you attempt something extraordinary, it is by Latin prefix, ‘extra’, and no one will understand that part until it happens. And oftentimes, you can’t defeat the quiet with muscle, strength, or toughness, because the thing you are holding is too fragile and could therefore be consequently lost by your tight grip. You must therefore work the other muscle: faith”
“The estate sale was crowded But I think the dead actress felt cheated. Things deserve acquisition, not purchase. Us customers, searching through her decades, Will never know what it’s like To earn a good death.”
“The blonde was staring at herself in the mirror, taking on a thoughtful, reflective tone. “Well, it isn’t easy. And his mood changes in an instant. But he collects different girls for different flavors – so one girl doesn’t have to be everybody and everything.” “Oh.” I splashed water on my face and stared for a moment at the mask in the mirror. “You’re just his type, totally. With all the tattoos, you are utterly monstrous, if you don’t mind my saying so. Punk-Goth gone mad.” She swung around to take a close, direct look. “I never saw the point of tattoos, mind you, just fad and fashion. But,” she focused on me, stared, grinned, and rolled her eyes. “My God, darling, you really are perfect! How could you do that to yourself?” She licked her lips. “I think you will be a success. As I said, Sergei loves tattoos. He’s totally into the weird and the monstrous. He adores freaks – and kid, you are about as freakish as they come.” “You think so.” I turned my mask towards her and gave her an extra big smile – I was even more grotesque, Martine told me, when I smiled. “Oh, Gwen, how totally utterly horrible!” she declared and then kissed me to console me for having become a monster. As I grinned at Sergei’s girl, the metal rings in my ears clanked against each other. I could feel the large ring nose, warm, smooth steel, against my curled upper lip. “Yes, you look like a masterpiece of self-loathing.” “It’s called body art,” I said, “It’s a statement.” “A statement?” “Absolutely,” I hiccupped. Everything was fuzzy; I forced myself to focus. “Whatever it is, you’ll be a big success. Sergei collects waifs who suffer from extreme self-hatred. Self-destructive and self-hating girls are one of his hobbies. You can do so much with them.”
“The reality of what was happening sank in. How and why had he ended up here? Why had Bevin and Charles been murdered?”
“How do I pack my rucksack? More like a gambler than a minimalist. I am not someone who likes solving puzzles. Because I never leave anything I might want behind, I first pack anything that falls into my hands. Then as if looking for a prize, I put in a hand, rummage about and pull objects out at random until the rucksack reaches the correct weight. With this process I always have sufficient spare clothing.”
“Oh say, where lies true lasting happiness? In evening rest? In friendly glance? Tis more: In sailing from the mire, the reeds, the mast, The mighty ocean s vastness to adore. Oh what is life? Tis nothing but a dream, A vast and enigmatic flowing stream. Such tender feelings fill my heaving breast I know not how or where they ll come to rest; My cares are multitudinous and sore, I long to feel the friendly rudder in my paw.”
“The stones were stained red, and Hari sensed the presence of tortured souls who had perished in this place.”
“The glaring light of the desert sun exposed a person s true face. I could no longer run or hide or pretend to be anything other than what I was.”
“For years, in between our short trips overseas, my husband Dave and I started talking about a different kind of trip, a long-term trip. Both of us loved the food, wine, and people of Italy, and we began talking/dreaming about someday living in Italy for an entire year. We named this dream our Beautiful Dream—our “Bel Sogno.”
“The locals appropriately named it Death Island . Some historians even refer to this period as the Herero and Nama genocide. Knowing the history gives this place an eerie, almost host-like aura. Not sure, in fact, if want to be sleeping here tonight.”
“He stops about 30 m away in a cloud of dust, turns and goes off, trumpeting loudly. Seconds later he comes rushing back back again, throwing a full-on elephant teenage-tantrum, even ripping up vegetation and throwing it into the air with his trunk.”
“It s been a very long time since I ve had an adventure.”
“Belle had come a long way from her desire to leave Aveyon behind forever in search of adventure like those she had read about in her books. Now she understood that adventure didn t have to mean chasing endless horizons. Adventure could be gathering brilliant minds like Marguerite and her father and others to her court so they could challenge her. Adventure could mean traveling to every corner of her kingdom and meeting people from all walks of life in order to learn from them. Adventure could be working to make her kingdom a better place for everyone in it, with the man she loved by her side.”