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It crossed Carter’s mind that he should feel envious of Igniss, but since the promotion had been lost before it’d even been coveted, his envy came out miniaturized, not a punch in the gut, more a pimple on the earlobe.
“It’s an act of courage,” Thomas went on, “to admit that you are indeed better than other people.”
This is the closest I’ve felt to an art fair VIP room in nearly a year
He watched her carefully. This was the thing you had to remember about Carter: as foolishly as he behaved, he was not, in fact, a fool.
Lo, Elliot was an artist. No crucible of hardship, no spiritual calling. Art was just something he was good at, therefore something he was praised for, therefore something he kept doing.
Val was young enough that alcohol was still recreation, not yet anesthesia, and their nights too often ended in tumblers of diminishing ice.
2 real
Elliot knew then that he loved her still. It wasn’t like the love he felt for Val. This was a safe love, polished and put away somewhere, like a stone wrapped in cotton.
THE WORD FOR SPELL, as in casting a spell, comes from the same root as the word for narration. This is evidence that ancient people believed language to be a sort of magic, the simple act of naming something akin to creating it, controlling it. If you know someone’s true name, you can destroy him, or so they say.
At that party, at Nita’s, that one night, Elliot came up to me with an extra drink. I have always attracted this type of man, the kind who approaches women with not the offer of the drink, but the drink itself.
In the game, the masked figures come out of the sky on cords so thin that it appears as if the men grasp the edges of the night and slide down them.
I know now that my mother was ill in her head, and not with headaches. The doctors have explained it to me, and I am aware of their expertise. But there is knowing something and then there is feeling it. For adults, these are two different things. For children, they are one.
“I’m a professional, after all. This isn’t my first time at the . . . what’s the saying? Roller rink? Cat show?” “Rodeo,” Pearl said. “‘This isn’t my first time at the rodeo.’” “‘Rodeo’? Really? I like ‘roller rink’ better.
The last man she’d dated, David, had removed himself from her life perfunctorily, efficiently, like unplugging an appliance from the wall.
Fear winnowed down your options, gave you a clear course forward.
The last time Calla had seen him, he was parked at craft services, eating square after tiny square of marbled cheese like Pac-Man eating pellets.
Calla knew the formula for compliments given to one’s face: downgrade by one.
Pearl was intimately familiar with David’s altruism, emphasis on intimate. During sex, David liked to wear the thank-you T-shirts he’d gotten for his volunteer work.
One of the more embarrassing habits of a fictional character that I can remember reading
The bartender snorted, charmed, as they always were, by Elliot’s antics. And it seemed to Pearl a type of violence, that much charm continuously wielded, a blade that severed you from your own good sense.
