Notes from a Regicide Quotes
Notes from a Regicide
by
Isaac Fellman435 ratings, 3.89 average rating, 159 reviews
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Notes from a Regicide Quotes
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“Oh, if you’d been there, you know you would have raised hell,” said Zaffre.
Etoine shrugged. “I guess in the moment, I usually do. I just always expect something to stop me. That’s the trouble I’m afraid of—as if God will stop me. But if God wanted us to not raise hell, he would’ve made natural laws against it. You can’t go mistaking a human law for a natural law.”
“You don’t believe in God,” said Zaffre.
“I don’t really believe in laws either,” he said, and took another bite of the candy.”
― Notes from a Regicide
Etoine shrugged. “I guess in the moment, I usually do. I just always expect something to stop me. That’s the trouble I’m afraid of—as if God will stop me. But if God wanted us to not raise hell, he would’ve made natural laws against it. You can’t go mistaking a human law for a natural law.”
“You don’t believe in God,” said Zaffre.
“I don’t really believe in laws either,” he said, and took another bite of the candy.”
― Notes from a Regicide
“I just—when I held you, it was the only thing I've always wanted to do, and yet it wasn't enough, and I know that sex isn't the thing it was missing, but—I want to hold you."
"Why?"
"To keep you still for a moment, and to keep you from hurting yourself, and because I'm cold. Is that enough?”
― Notes from a Regicide
"Why?"
"To keep you still for a moment, and to keep you from hurting yourself, and because I'm cold. Is that enough?”
― Notes from a Regicide
“...she never did anything to her canvases-she never mortared pigments, she never slit away layers with the palette knife, she never sharpened a goddamn pencil-without also doing it to herself.”
― Notes from a Regicide
― Notes from a Regicide
“Sebastienne's plot in the stone yard acquired a plurality of candles--a little city of candles, buildings of different heights and colors like the slums whose narrow row houses were painted in the liveries of their aristocratic owners, and all on fire.”
― Notes from a Regicide
― Notes from a Regicide
“I wish you’d been my mom,” I said, unable to tell how much I meant and how much was ingratiation. I was always mistaking them for each other. She shook her body, as if throwing something off. “No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “But you meant it.” “Griffon, people who’ve been through the things we’ve been through, we learn to say things to other adults that will make them love us. I shouldn’t prompt you for what to say. I shouldn’t be like this. I should wait and earn your trust.”
― Notes from a Regicide
― Notes from a Regicide
“He’s not a bad parent. He tries really hard.” I was still stuck on this idea of my father as a complicated man who required my careful handling, and I was always defensive—however weakly—when someone suggested he was simply bad. “Are we going to judge someone’s quality by their intentions? You’re old enough to understand that good intentions are not the same as being good.”
― Notes from a Regicide
― Notes from a Regicide
“By that point in their lives, they were of the rich class of any oppressed minority that more or less gets away with everything, and which rarely mixes anything but money into the communal cup. Beyond”
― Notes from a Regicide
― Notes from a Regicide
“For the story of their lives in Stephensport, I have relied upon Etoine’s prison memoir. He wrote it when he thought that Zaffre was already dead, and he had nothing ahead but death on the gallows. He had no idea that he would live for decades after that, would outlive her again, would mourn her again.
Autoportrait, Blessé is what he called it: Self-Portrait with a Wound, or Self-Portrait, Injured. Nothing to do with the English “bless” or “blessing,” though you could be forgiven for thinking it, if you imagined my father had any hand for the sliding bow of a multilingual pun, or if you imagined he felt blessed.”
― Notes from a Regicide
Autoportrait, Blessé is what he called it: Self-Portrait with a Wound, or Self-Portrait, Injured. Nothing to do with the English “bless” or “blessing,” though you could be forgiven for thinking it, if you imagined my father had any hand for the sliding bow of a multilingual pun, or if you imagined he felt blessed.”
― Notes from a Regicide
