We laugh and laugh, and nothing can ever be sad, no one can be lost, or dead, or far away: right now we are here, and nothing can mar our perfection, or steal the joy of this perfect moment.
Audrey NiffeneggerLook, I am living. On what? Neither the childhood nor future/ grows any smaller...Superabundant being/ wells up in my heart.
Audrey NiffeneggerI hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going. - Henry deTamble
Audrey NiffeneggerCLARE: The library is cool and smells like carpet cleaner, although all I can see is marble.
Audrey NiffeneggerTags: first-sentence
I feel guilty for wanting to avoid the sadness, dead people need us to rememer them, even if it eats us, even if all we can do is say “I am sorry”, until its as meaningless as air.
Audrey NiffeneggerWhy is love intensified by absence?
Audrey NiffeneggerIt’s dark now and I am very tired. I love you, always. Time is nothing.
Audrey NiffeneggerIt comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.
Audrey NiffeneggerI don't know about you, but I'm kind of fed up with realism. After all, there's enough reality already; why make more of it? Why not leave realism for the memoirs of drug addicts, the histories of salt, the biographies of porn stars? Why must we continue to read about the travails of divorced people or mildly depressed Canadians when we could be contemplating the shopping habits of zombies, or the difficulties that ensue when living and dead people marry each other? We should be demanding more stories about faery handbags and pyjamas inscribed with the diaries of strange women. We should not rest until someone writes about a television show that features the Free People's World-Tree Library, with its elaborate waterfalls and Forbidden Books and Pirate-Magicians. We should be pining for a house haunted by rabbits.
(from the review of Kelly Link's Magic for Beginners in The Guardian)
Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. Now I wait for Henry. He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?
Audrey NiffeneggerPage 1 of 24.
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