Ju(st in case it is temporary)🫀

“Gaunt was woven into everything he read, saw, wrote, did, dreamt. Every poem had been written about him, every song composed for him, and Ellwood could not scrape his mind clear of him no matter how he tried.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“Henry,' he [Ellwood] said, smoke tumbling out of his mouth in tendrils, 'are you all right?'

'I'm fine.'

'Yes, I know you're fine. But are you all right?”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“He thought perhaps all the pain would sour the love, but instead it drew him further in, as if he were Marc Antony, falling on his own sword. And it was a magical thing, to love someone so much; it was a feeling so strange
and slippery, like a sheath of fabric cut from the sky.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam

“My dearest, darling Sidney,' There was nothing else. Only dead white paper, blank and meaningless. A comma, followed by nothing. Death summed up by grammar.”
― Alice Winn, In Memoriam