But there are times to talk to the dead, times when the dead want to talk.
Ghosts,” Doktor Messerli continued, “aren’t always the spirits of the human dead bound to the earth. A ghost can be the residual feeling that follows an act you have accomplished but feel bad about. Or the act itself. Something you’ve been or...
Anna’s conclusions were these: That fire is beautifully cruel. That fusion occurs only at a specific heat. That blood, in fact, can boil. That the dissolution of an affair is an entropic reaction, and the disorder it tends toward is flammable. That...
Let’s get you one, Anna.” “A lover?” Edith rolled her eyes. “No. A fucking houseplant. Yes, a lover.” Edith smirked. “It’ll cheer you up!
There is a correlation between the severity of a person’s moods and a lack of self-knowledge.
Anna loved and didn’t love sex. Anna needed and didn’t need it. Her relationship with sex was a convoluted partnership that rose from both her passivity and an unassailable desire to be distracted.
The deepest sleep is meant only for children and perfect fools.
Solitude was her anchor. A familiar misery, and anymore the safest, most sensible approach.
Bored women join clubs and volunteer. Sad women have affairs.
Whores, Anna once read, make the very best wives. They are accustomed to the varying moods of men, they keep their broken hearts to themselves, and easy women always ease through grief.
