The universe danced towards life. life was a remarkably common commodity. anything sufficiently complicated seemed to get cut in for some, in the same way that anything massive enough got a generous helping of gravity. the universe had a definite tendency towards awareness. this suggested a certain subtle cruelty woven into the very fabric of space-time.
Deep, dark unearthly black. I hadn't told anyone yet, but the color kept streaking across my mind at the oddest moments. When it did, my skin shivered pleasantly, and it was as if i could feel the color tracing a finger tenderly along my jaw, tipping my chin up to face it directly. I knew it was absurd to think a color would come to life, but once or twice, i was sure i'd caught a flash of something more substantial behind the color. A pair of eyes. The way they studied me cut to the heart.
I didn’t get her cutting at all. she’d done it sporadically, ever since the accident and it scared me each time. she'd try to explain it to me, how she didn't want to die—she just needed to get it out somehow. she felt so much emotionally, she would say, that a physical outlet—physical pain—was the only way to make the internal pain go away. it was the only way she could control it.
He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "you cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "it might be fatal." tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "are you the magister?" he tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
I'm hunger. i'm thirst. where i bite, i hold till i die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. i can fast a hundred years and not die. i can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. i can drink a river of blood and not burst. show me your enemies.
When i'm at our house in france i totally cut myself off from the rest of the world. I never have to listen to phones ringing and that's because - and vanessa would confirm this - phones are banned from the house. We have a beautiful life and i feel that spending time in france has just calmed me down and made me stop worrying about things which aren't really important.
I have discovered, passionate grief does not link us with the dead but cuts us off from them. this becomes clearer and clearer. it is just at those moments when i feel least sorrow - getting into my morning bath is usually one of them - that h. rushes upon my mind in her full reality, her otherness. not, as in my worst moments, all foreshortened and patheticized and solemnized by my miseries, but as she is in her own right. this is good and tonic.