If you had really loved something, wouldn’t a little bit of it always linger? — Susan Orlean, The Orchid Thief (Random House, 1998)
She reached into an alabaster box and pulled out a violet cigarette that also exactly matched her eyes. Some people just don’t know when to quit. She lit her colored coffin nail, set it into an ashtray, and promptly forgot about it. It smoldered into eternity silently begging for one more touch from her gorgeous… Continue reading Gary K. Wolf
Autumns reward western Kansas for the evils that the remaining seasons impose: winter’s rough Colorado winds and hip-high, sheep-slaughtering snows; the slushes and the strange land fogs of spring; and summer, when even crows seek the puny shade, and the tawny infinitude of wheatstalks bristle, blaze. At last, after September, another weather arrives, an Indian… Continue reading Truman Capote
You can make it all go away. Put your head back. Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream. — Mads Mikkelsen [Hannibal Lecter] Hannibal (2014) Season 2 Episode 26 “Mizumono” Written by Bryan Fuller & Steve Lightfoot. Directed by John Dahl. Based on the novels written by Thomas Harris.
We both know the unreality of taking a life, of people who died, we had no chance, we know, in those moments, they’re not flesh. Light, and air, and color. — Mads Mikkelsen [Hannibal Lecter] Hannibal (2013) Season 1 Episode 10 “Buffet Froid.” Written by Andy Black, Chris Brancato & Bryan Fuller. Directed by John… Continue reading Mads Mikkelsen
Nothing is more fleeting than the external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn. — Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose. (Everyman’s Library; First Edition edition September 26, 2006) Originally published 1980.
You exist in a half-world suspended between two superstructures, one self-expression and the other self-destruction. — Truman Capote, In Cold Blood (Random House, 1965)