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Her back to me, she said, “I know what Paul thinks. Everyone thinks I didn’t love Porter, that I just married him for the money, but Porter and I --” She shrugged. As avowals of lasting love go, I’ve sat through more professional presentations. But I said, “No outsider can understand a relationship between two people.” Hell, sometimes even the people in the relationship couldn’t understand it. ↗
He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "Lass, I have never lied to you. I adore you and there have never been any other women from the future here. And these"- he flung a tampon in the air- "cleaning swabs, I cannot fathom why they upset you so greatly, but I assure you I have never let the maids use them." Lisa's brow furrowed. No man could be so stupid. "Cleaning Swabs?" He snatched up a gun and jerked the barrel in her direction, and an unwrapped tampon shot out. It was coated with black from the slow corrosion of the steel. She eyed it for a moment, bent, and plucked it from the floor. "You clean your guns with these?" He lowered the gun. "Is that not the purpose for which they were designed? I vow I could not conceive of another." Didn't you read the box?" There were too many words I didn't understand! ↗
The embrace of present and past time, in which English antiquarianism becomes a form of alchemy, engenders a strange timelessness. It is as if the little bird which flew through the Anglo-Saxon banqueting hall, in Bede's Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum, gained the outer air and became the lark ascending in Vaughan Williams's orchestral setting. The unbroken chain is that of English music itself. ↗
By all means, let's show your father what a bad influence I've been on his little girl.” "He won't think that at all. He's always adored you for having rescued his fallen daughter.” "And his daughter? What does she think about it?” "She thinks that ..." Lucy paused and cast a swift glance over her head, "that you have been very remiss in failing to notice that she is standing right underneath a sprig of mistletoe." His laughter was soft and lazy, eliciting a delicious chill from the pit of her stomach. While he stared into her eyes, he reached up, plucked the mistletoe from the top of the doorframe, and slipped the small green sprig into his pocket. "For later," he said, and smiled at her. ↗
They had known each other intimately, as husband and wife, countless times, He had held her with tenderness and passion, but never with such rampant wildness. ↗
He whispered her name as if it were a love-word, and his mouth drifted through the tear tracks on her face. They would not yield their secrets. Oh, but love . . . Love was unvoiced and undenied. As they fitted together into one being, each movement was a new discovery, each second an eternity of emotion. Let it last, her heart beseeched the darkness silently. Let it last forever. ↗
I could not take one more minute of trying to convince the people of Los Angeles that a workers’ revolution and a complete overhaul of society was a tiny bit more exciting than getting a bit role in a Burger King commercial ↗
Seeing the moving handmill, Kabir wept and said, "Alas, no one has survived the pressure of the two millstones (of the heavens and the earth). They left all their mighty empire and pomp and show behind them and but for a handful of dust no trace remains of their existence. Nobody knows about them or about what happened to them after their death -- what insects ate them up and how they fared with God. Thus alone shall one realize that this world is a transitory place and man has nothing to gain from it; it is a puppet show. Thus alone shall one find peace. ↗
That, too, was in the air itself -- a whisper of apology when the smell of the soil carried. There should be pumpkins in the fields, or sunflowers, or the peppers you saw up north. Instead, it was the smell of old earth that the breezes caught, sometimes a tinge of death. Too hard to forget. ↗
