White Turtle Quotes

“She ran around the lawn, holding the box with the dying yellow which was pleading to be divested of its heart. When she reached the gate of her husband’s estate, she couldn’t stand the breathing or the pleading any longer. She flung the box away and fled to the house without looking back. Her husband returned six months later. While inside her that night, he remarked about the pretty new shrubs at the gate. He congratulated her on the choice. Where did she get them, he asked, but in a knowing voice. They were just beginning to bloom, too, he said. Yellow flowers, chick yellow, no, a deeper shade actually. The yellow”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle

“he felt as if the white turtle had somersaulted into his eyes. That night of the readings, it dived into him again, down to the depth of his irises, as he acted as interpreter. After she sang each scene, he would read his translation. Theirs was a dialogue in two tongues blending and counterpointing. Strange to hear the turtle voice in English, Lola Basyon thought. She rather liked its sound though— I am your cradle rocking your babydreams past anemone; the hundred fingers curling around sleepgurgles passing… What”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle

“Indeed, on their respective days of owning the tongue, each of the neighbours could not help but echo the mouth of the previous owner. The Italian family eventually developed a taste for the occasional cardamom tea, the Filipino adventurously spread some Vegemite on his pan de sal and, at one time, the Australian couple stirred fish heads into their sour soup. Meanwhile, the Sri Lankan began hosting summer feasts by the barbie, and the Turkish baker even serenaded his wife with songs about love and volcanoes as he prepared a tray of almond biscotti for the oven. You see, the tongue had an excellent memory. Even when it had moved to a new mouth, it still evoked the breath of spices, sweets and syllables of the former host. It was never known to forget anything, least of all the fact that it was once the soft, pink flesh of a South Coast mollusc; it yielded itself to a higher good one winter night when the ocean was formidably wild.”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle

“Palm sex. Rings a bell, I know, what with the joke about Mrs Palmer and her five lovely daughters. Wish I could find that funny, but like the act it’s too obvious and predictable. Fondle-rub-oooh-fondle-rub-rub-hah-hah-hah-hah-oooooooooh God! And you’re not even Catholic. But palm sex is something else. It’s the act of any stranger sucking the centre of your palm, where the lifeline and heartline intersect, to draw out the nasty ache hiding there. A thorn or sliver of glass or wood or the thinnest chip of china from the last decent plate in the house after one of its creatures had lost her temper. I”
― Merlinda Bobis, White Turtle