Love’s pure free joy when it works, but when it goes bad you pay for the good hours at loan-shark prices.
He was doing quite well until the last sentence, but if you bare your arse to a vengeful unicorn, the number of possible outcomes dwindles to one.
I imagine the cove in darkness. I imagine it in a storm. I imagine it in 30 years. “You’ve pre-haunted it,” I tell him.
…from this brilliant Vulture article on David Mitchell‘s new book, The Bone Clocks. The article itself is beautiful, and I’m nine tenths of the way to convincing myself to slag off reading assignments next week and jump into this novel the second it goes on sale.
Yes, I’m aware this is two posts in a row referencing DM. And why shouldn’t it be? Dude’s work has more depth than the Bible.