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Kindle Notes & Highlights
a million bureaucrats are diligently plotting death and some of them even know it,
only the accustomed crickets again, apples again, early frosts to send the hummingbirds away, east wind, October rain: only winter certainties.
When we find it, we’ll have shown again the stone determinacy of everything, of every soul. There will be precious little room for any hope at all. You can see how important a discovery like that would be.
Their footprints filled with ice, and a little later were taken out to sea.
The Meggezone is like being belted in the head with a Swiss Alp.
The one candy he did not get to taste—one Mrs. Quoad withheld—was the Fire of Paradise, that famous confection of high price and protean taste—“salted plum” to one, “artificial cherry” to another . . . “sugared violets” . . . “Worcestershire sauce” . . . “spiced treacle” . . . any number of like descriptions, positive, terse—never exceeding two words in length—resembling the descriptions of poison and debilitating gases found in training manuals, “sweet-and-sour eggplant” being perhaps the lengthiest to date.
People who dress up in bizarre costumes have a savoir-vivre—not to mention the sort of personality disorder—that he admires.
