But he gave the impression of loss, of secrets, and it was easy to imagine something's having happened in his childhood... More likely Ryan was like a plant that never develops. He lacked the final something that makes a person link with life, become part of the flow of life. And perhaps I wasn't entirely comfortable with him because the same thing could be said of me. -- Stephen Dobyns, The Church of Dead Girls
"Despise him? Oh, no. Oh, yes, perhaps if he was weak in himself, but he isn't. Oh, Lord, how c-c-c-c-can I explain it?" A level of agitation brought back the stutter. "I know...I want you to know, but you can't, can you?" She paused. "Th-th-th-think of what it would be like, Sister, if you met someone lost to the devil and they saw your God, saw another life, a p-p-perfectly marvellous life on the other side of the clouds, and they rushed, rushed to embrace it. Full of joy. And they were determined to embrace it, and you'd been the one who'd made them want it, and then--and then out came the claws to drag them back, beat their bones and make them bow to the devil again, all for someone else's vanity. Wouldn't that break your heart? Oh, tell me it would. Tell me it would matter. Tell me you wouldn't rather go to hell yourself first." -- Frances Fyfield, Staring at the Light (You can probably figure out easily enough why that one struck me. *g*)
Despite the claims of Playboy, the Miss Universe contest and other promoters of the feminine image to men, Banks had often found that it was the most insignificant detail that made a woman physically attractive to him: a well-placed mole, a certain curve of the lips or turn of the ankle; or a mannerism, such as the way she picked up a glass, tilted her head before smiling, or fiddled with a necklace while speaking. -- Peter Robinson, A Necessary End
y to zzzzzzz.
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