We just move on, don’t we, with traitors still amongst us? But there was one thought that wouldn’t go away. If I loved him, I would forgive him.
…he’d assumed their relationship would go on forever. It was going on now, but in another way, like the rearrangement of the stars, which were all still in the sky, just burning in unexpected places.
I guess if you get too close, the twinkling stops; they don’t look like stars anymore.
You know what people are doing on the other side of the world, what’s happening on another planet, but not what’s going on inside the person next to you.
The world is indeed a cold, hard stone.
What do writers look like?
A nose is ordinarily naked. A nose isn’t nipple, although there are similarities.
The emotion was the most important thing.
I wouldn't dignify it with the name immoral.
Were the stars against him? A woman's fingers are quicker in the sky and shine more brightly.
We put our flags in soil when we arrive, as if it now belongs to us and we know where we are.
Some people say he engineered his own arrest to gain an insight into modern methods of policing for a thriller he had planned. But you know what happens to artistic rats in prison: they have their rectums stretched, and not by overindulgence in Miche...
Olga was better, in the sun, where he could see every pore in her skin. Get closer. Feel her next to him. It was all he wanted in the world. It was the last thing in the world that he could do.
The sexual contact before this? “It was the first time.” The woman looked at Rat again, harder. The silence was more painful than the words. What she had just heard went beyond plain immorality. It was ridiculous.
The expected battle hadn’t taken place, yet something else had. Images of the entertainment which had just gone down were already coming back into Rat’s head. It had been wonderful to watch, unbelievably wonderful, the enactment of several plays ...
