Below me, in the foundations of the house, I could hear the clothes I'd buried there growing themselves a body.
Because you are never herebut always there, I forgetnot you but what you look likeYou drift down the streetin the rain, your facedissolving, changing shape, the coloursrunning togetherMy walls absorby...
Because they were ready for us, and waiting. The moment of betrayal is the worst, the moment when you know beyond any doubt that you've been betrayed: that some other human being has wished you that m...
Be a good girl, she said. I hope you'll be a good sister to Laura. I know you try to be. I nodded. I didn't know what to say. I felt I was the victim of an injustice: why was it always me who was supp...
As it says in the Bible, For now we through a glass, darkly; but then face to face. If it is face to face, there must be two looking.
And yet it disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional.
And the vampires. You used to know where you stood with them – smelly, evil, undead – but now there are virtuous vampires and disreputable vampires, and sexy vampires and glittery vampires, and none o...
Also, if a man takes pride in his disguise skills, it would be a foolish wife who would claim to recognise him: it's always an imprudence to step between a man and the reflection of his own cleverness...
All it takes, said Crake, is the elimination of one generation. One generation of anything. Beetles, trees, microbes, scientists, speakers of French, whatever. Break the link in time between one gener...
Alcohol's a depressant, it will let me down later.
A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other...
A space-time, between here and now and there and then, puncuated by dinner
A prison does not only lock its inmates inside, it keeps all others out. Her strongest prison is of her own construction.
A man in a cloud, with icicle teeth and eyes of fire.
A hot wind was blowing around my head, the strands of my hair lifting and swirling in it, like ink spilled in water.
A chair, a table, a lamp. Above, on the white ceiling, a relief ornament in the shape of a wreath, and in the center of it a blank space, plastered over, like the place in a face where the eye has bee...
The hearts gone bubonic with jealousy and greed, glinting through the vests and sweaters of anyone at all.
She doesn’t want to begin, she wants to continue. No: she wants to go back.
Hard to get the full view, of the sky, of anything. But we can do it, a little at a time, a quick move of the head, up and down, to the side and back. We have learned to see the world in gasps.
You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.