The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 8

by Beth Brower

St. Crispian’s was out for blood, and Hawkes was going to lead the crusade.

“Who the hell is Hawkes?” he asked.

“I have experienced something I can’t quite understand.” Hawkes waited, then, “A state I’ve known.” “What do you do with it?” “I wait on the shore of the mystery to see what the tide will bring.”

Two paths leading to a love. Both true. A different shape of happiness to be found with each. Which path you take? Depends on many things. What you choose. What they choose. A thousand other decisions, or possibly very few. One you would love deeply. One you would love completely. One sharp as a knife. One a game of mirrors.One more difficult. One less free. Both inheritors to the line that refused to die when your first heart was buried.

It isn’t that I’m looking to become another Mrs. Morrow, but the idea of this fledgling family is…almost like watching the beginning of a story.

Question: Ought I read the papers more than I do? Answer: Likely. However: Books.

Considering this list, it struck me that there are people in this world—usually men—who are doing other things, like walking long, grass-lined roads and thinking poetry and spangled thoughts.

Parian is becoming something of a chum.

“He was never ours to begin with. Some things have to be let go. They weren’t made to stay.”

i smell the stench of a foreshadow