Only through the harshest tests can God’s chosen rise.
Nothing will be healed in this kitchen. Some griefs can never be put right.
Membership in the State Youth becomes mandatory. The boys in Werner’s Kameradschaften are taught parade maneuvers and quizzed on fitness standards and required to run sixty meters in twelve seconds. E...
Marie-Laure sits in her customary spot in the corner of the kitchen, closest to the fireplace, and listens to the friends of Melanie Manec complain... Nine of them sit around the square table, knees p...
Malouins send up oaths: Lord God safeguard this
Jules Verne: Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth. Etienne
It becomes known as the time of the ostriches. Do we have our heads in the sand, Madame? Or do they? Maybe everybody does, she murmurs. Madame
At dusk the pour from the sky.
I hear they give out poisoned chocolate.
He says, This hotel is very cheap, ma cherie. The innkeeper behind the desk said our room was forty francs a night but only twenty francs if we made our own bed. He listens to her breathe. So I said,...
He scans the field. Trees, sky, hay. Darkness falling like velvet. Already a few pale stars. Marie-Laure breathes the measured breath of sleep. Everyone should behave as if he carries the real thing....
Abram os olhos e vejam o máximo que puderem antes que eles se fechem para sempre.
Now that shell, Laurette, belonged to a violet sea snail, a blind snail that lives its whole life on the surface of the sea. As
Earth is all magma and continental crust and ocean. Gravity and time. Stones are just stones and rain is just rain and misfortune is just bad luck.
Gibbous.
Wednesdays. You will strip away
Maybe the Sea of Flames never existed at all, maybe curses aren’t real, maybe her father is right: Earth is all magma and continental crust and ocean. Gravity and time. Stones are just stones and rain...
Maybe living was no more than getting swept over a riverbed and eventually out to sea, no choices to make, only the vast, formless ocean ahead, the frothing waves, the lightless tomb of its depths.
Maybe his body is giving up. If he does not eat, he understands, he will die. But when he does eat, he fells as if he will die.
Madame? Yes? What do I do? Just walk. She walks. Now there are cold round pebbles beneath her feet. Now crackling weeds. Now something smoother: wet, unwrinkled sand. She bends and spreads her fingers...
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