More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
always hated obvious dreams like that. I still do.
In 1948, Jackie, the family’s Golden Child, was found drowned in her godparents’ pool. The pool that had been drained down to its last two feet of water. Up to that point she’d been unflaggingly cheerful, the sort of talkative negra who could have found a positive side to a mustard-gas attack.
Her sister, Astrid—we scarcely knew you, babe—wasn’t much luckier.
The government was supposed to have erected a plaque to the dead of Nigüa Prison, but they never did.
Veidt says: “I did the right thing, didn’t I? It all worked out in the end.” And Manhattan, before fading from our Universe, replies: “In the end? Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends.”
He wrote: So this is what everybody’s always talking about! Diablo! If only I’d known. The beauty! The beauty!
