Her body feels different, no longer taut and sinewy but sponge-like fluid. Saturated. It has a different energy, a deep orangy-like pink, like the inside of a hibiscus.
Friendship was always contingent.
You want the truth, of course. You want me to put two and two together. But two and two doesn’t necessarily get you the truth. Two and two equals a voice outside the window. Two and two equals the win...
When I was younger, imagining age, I would think, Maybe you appreciate things more when you don't have much time left. I forgot to include the loss of energy. Some days I do appreciate things more, eg...
What would that be like - to long, to yearn for someone who is right there before your eyes, day in and day out?
What could he have done or said differently? What change would have altered the course of events? In the big picture, nothing. In the small picture, so much.
We're all watching him. It's the one thing we can really do, and it is not for nothing: if he were to falter, fail, or die, what would become of us? No wonder he's like a boot, hard on the outside, gi...
We are a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.
Watch out for art, Crake used to say. As soon as they start doing art, we’re in trouble.
Up You wake up filled with dreadThere seems no reason for it.Morning light sifts through the window,there is birdsong,you can’t get out of bed. It’s something about the crumpled sheetshanging over the...
This is perhaps why Dante chooses the poet Virgil to be his guide in the Inferno; in visiting a strange location, it's always best to go with someone who's been there before, and – most important of a...
The theory was that while in a Fallow state you were gathering and conserving strength, nourishing yourself through meditation, sending invisible rootlets out into the universe.
The story of Zenia ought to begin when Zenia began. It must have been someplace long ago and distant in space, thinks Tony; someplace bruised, and very tangled. A European print, hand-tinted, ochre-co...
The proper study of Mankind is Everything.
So Crake never remembered his dreams. It's Snowman that remembers them instead. Worse than remembers: he's immersed in them, he'd wading through them, he's stuck in them. Every moment he's lived in th...
It wasn't so easy though, ending the war. A war is a huge fire; the ashes from it drift far, and settle slowly.
It was like being in an elevator cut loose at the top. Falling, falling, and not knowing when you will hit.
In the end, we'll all become stories. Or else we'll become entities. Maybe it's the same.
I've heard the long sigh go up, from around me, the sigh like air coming out of an air mattress, I've seen Aunt Lydia place her hand over the mike, to stifle the other sounds coming from behind her, I...
I wonder why trying to transcend time never even succeeds in stopping it...