More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Why? Unless you are prepared to take the long view, there is no satisfactory “answer” to such questions.
I am what I am. To look for “reasons” is beside the point.
Everything goes. I am working very hard at not thinking about how everything goes.
Why was she crying, he wanted to know. Because he made her so happy, she said, and for that moment believed it.
their bodies gleaming, unlined, as if they had an arrangement with mortality.
love you,” she whispered, but it was more a plea than a declaration and in any case he made no response.
She had a remote sense that everything was happening exactly the way it was supposed to happen.
Maria did not particularly believe in rewards, only in punishments, swift and personal.
She knew a lot of things about disaster. She could manage.
No moment more or less important than any other moment, all the same:
The late sun seemed warm and benevolent on her skin and everything she saw looked beautiful, the summer pulse of life itself made manifest.
the peril, unspeakable peril, in the everyday.
straightened the immaculate room as if to erase any sign of herself.
the drive back they told each other that it had been the wrong time, the wrong place, that it was bad because he had lied to arrange it, that it would be all right another time, idyllic later.
By the end of a week she was thinking constantly about where her body stopped and the air began, about the exact point in space and time that was the difference between Maria and other.
“Why do you say those things. Why do you fight.” He would sit on the bed and put his head in his hands. “To find out if you’re alive.”
it goes as it lays, don’t do it the hard way.
