The world rarely shrieks its meaning at you. It whispers, in private languages and obscure modalities, in arcane and quixotic imagery, through symbol systems in which every element has multiple meanin...
The woman is bad-tempered because she’s terrified.
The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective. Even a bowed mirror works primarily by engaging the eyes, and she who centers...
The surface of the shoes seemed to pulse with hundreds of reflections and refractions. In the firelight, it was like looking at boiling corpuscles of blood under a magnifying glass.
The moon passed overhead in its path from the Vinkus, and she felt its accusatory spotlight, and moved back from the tall windows.
The mister days that letters are the key, but even when you know the whole family, there's so many combinations you can make. And they break their word.
The further on we go, the more meaning there is, but the less articulable. You live your life and the older you get- the more specifically you harvest- the more precious becomes every ounce and spasm....
The answer of course, is that the clock isn't meant to measure earthly time, but the time of the soul. Redemption and condemnation time. For the soul, each instant is always a minute short of judgment...
Tarde o temprano, a todos nos alcanza el rayo.
Such silly things, children -- and so embarrassing -- because they keep changing themselves out of shame, out of a need to be loved or something. While animals are born who they are, accept it, and th...
So—if the oldest memories could contaminate one another, could prove impossible—what good was memory at al?
Small steps to the madhouse still get us there at last
Simpatico, it’s Italian for ‘sympathetic.’ Hearts beating to the same pulse. That’s what music does for one, you know—I mean, for two. For more. It trains hearts to lean in the same direction. Sympath...
She would emerge. She always had before. The punishing political climate of Oz had beat her down, dried her up, tossed her away—like a seedling she had drifted, apparently too desiccated ever to take...
She lived and breathed, Brrr knew, with a high tolerance for detachment - like a lake jellyfish floating in a glass casket, oblivious of japing crowds.
She assumes that skill will guide her fingertips, that shapely lines will uncoil out of the pencil the moment she starts. Surely talent is a thing curled deep inside, just waiting to be exercised, and...
Rain spoke as slowly as she could, working her way like a tightrope artist across her thoughts, feeling them an instant before walking the words out.
Please, I know nothing of the world, except my father is lost in it.
Perplexity isn’t as noble as conviction, but perhaps more good is done in the name of muddling through uncertainty than is done hacking away with the righteous sword of self-confidence.
People who claim that they’re evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. He sighed. It’s people who claim that they’re good, or anyway better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of.