More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Her voice was not particular in its pitch, the sort of strong, flat edge to it older folk get when they’ve given up trying to please lovers and have set about getting things done, but it seemed to echo under my breastbone like she was showing me to be a hollow thing before her.
When listening for danger, one must never mistake silence for safety.
The day was cold, and a fine, misty rain was falling, the sort of rain that took its time wetting you because it knew you weren’t going anywhere.
So I could bounce unlikely grandchildren on my knee and tell them, “You know your grandfather saw a kraken once? That’s right! Stay the fuck on dry land.”
Only the strong, the rich, and the dying think truth is a necessity; the rest of us know it for a luxury.
