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She was a daughter of the Virgin of Montserrat, and she felt instinctively and of course heretically that the Virgin herself was only a symbol of a yet greater sister-mother who was carefree and sorrowful all at once, a goddess who didn’t guide you or shield you but only went with you from place to place and added her tangible presence to your own when required.
A consequence of snatching images out of the air—the air took something back.
instead they turned motion and intelligible speech into a currency with which personhood is earned.
A shattering so absolute that no word can be picked up again—that’s my success.
It was the usual struggle between one who loves by accepting burdens and one who loves by refusing to be one.
it was a matching pair of sleeps.
Her college library was at its best late at night. At night the stained-glass figures in the windows seemed to slumber, and the lamps on each desk gently rolled orange light along the floors until it formed one great globe that bounced along every twist and turn of the staircase to the upper levels.
