More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
He started gyrating his hips for no apparent reason.
mood
We lose things, and we gain them.
“Oh, I do. I very much yearn for it, Mister Carl. Did you know I used to be an apex predator? And after that, I was a terror who could fly? Do you know how many clowns I have consumed? How many lemurs? Now I can’t even do a little hop? It’s a great yearning Jamal has. I have, I mean. I do wish to feel the wind in my gills. I wish to hop across the battlefield. Oh, what a wish. What a wish I have.”
“My heart. I gave you my heart. Please. Please take it back,” the blinded Mork groaned as he dug into his own chest, ripping away his robes, then hair, then flesh. He grasped, and with a sickening crack, he ripped one of his own ribs away. It snapped like a tree branch. But before he could get to his own heart, he ran out of strength. “I’m so cold,” he whispered. “He promised me I’d never be cold again.”
:(
Drowning. I was drowning in nothing. This is how it feels, Carl. This is what it’s like when we’re not here and we’re not there.
They burned, and they screamed. That was the source of the distant train whistle sound. It was thousands, perhaps millions, perhaps billions, of the tiny creatures who could not die.
Performing because they knew that’s what they were supposed to do. Because they knew if the others realized who they really were, how empty they were, that they’d be cast out and left with nowhere to go.
There can be beauty in words, twisted just the right way. The correct verse could raise that which was lost.
