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“My body moves but I feel like I'm not part of it. What am I? Body, brain, soul, or all of these? Infant, boy, man, or all those things together? Or nothing, just nothing at all?”
― Half a Creature from the Sea: A Life in Stories
― Half a Creature from the Sea: A Life in Stories
“No matter what everyone else said, she wanted to believe the missing child was hers. She wanted to believe the reason her child hadn't come home in over a year was because she took such small steps. If she were to come home at that pace, they would have to wait much, much longer. No matter what everyone said, this is what she wanted to believe.”
― Bluebeard's First Wife
― Bluebeard's First Wife
“He remembered the features of the land at all the different places. He thought back to the birds or the flowers or the trees that were native to those specific regions. And yet he had never thought of going back to pay a visit to any of them. Each of them was finished with, over, as if his memories had been abruptly cut off midway. The different locations failed to intersect with each other but lay separate and unconnected in the shadows of his mind. If your hometown is the place you think of when you come to a crossroads in your life, or when you find yourself in crisis, then Aose had none. All he had was the light.”
― The North Light
― The North Light
“To say that the mountain was this or that. To ascribe it physical or metaphysical characteristics. To describe it in a way that separated it from everything that was not it - these are all habits of the human mind, and so, it could justifiably be said that all and any such remarks described the describer more than Ghost Mountain. Ghost Mountain had no mind. It did not describe itself. It had no self or self-view. Ghost Mountain was Ghost Mountain.”
― Ghost Mountain
― Ghost Mountain
“There were times when he had longed to return to that soft light. For some reason, all of the workers' prefab lodgings he had lived in had the same large windows on the north side. He had loved to read or draw in the light that came in through those windows. In was a soft, north light that neither burst in nor drenched them with its rays. That light from the north would almost apologetically enfold the room in gentle arms. It was different from the sharp brightness of the east window or the cheery sunniness of the south. The light from the north was quiet and serene, as if it had reached a state of enlightenment.”
― The North Light
― The North Light
Aurora’s 2025 Year in Books
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