Claptrap last week, Lady D announced. I think the priest is getting old.Gareth opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, his grandmother’s cane swung around in a remarkably steady horizontal arc. Don’t, she warned, make a comment beginning with the words, ‘Coming from you…’I wouldn’t dream of it, he demurred.Of course you would, she stated. You wouldn’t be my grandson if you wouldn’t. She turned to Hyacinth. Don’t you agree?To her credit, Hyacinth folded her hands in her lap and said, Surely there is no right answer to that question.Smart girl, Lady D said approvingly.I learn from the master.Lady Danbury beamed. Insolence aside, she continued determinedly, gesturing toward Gareth as if he were some sort of zoological specimen, he really is an exceptional grandson. Couldn’t have asked for more.Gareth watched with amusement as Hyacinth murmured something that was meant to convey her agreement without actually doing so.Of course, Grandmother Danbury added with a dismissive wave of her hand, he hasn’t much in the way of competition. The rest of them have only three brains to share among them.Not the most ringing of endorsements, considering that she had twelve living grandchildren.I’ve heard some animals eat their young, Gareth murmured, to no one in particular.Hyacinth wrinkled her nose, as she always did when she was thinking hard. It wasn’t a terribly attractive expression, but the alternative was simply not to think, which she didn’t find appealing.'s in His Kiss
Julia Quinn
Some catastrophic moments invite clarity, explode in split moments: You smash your hand through a windowpane and then there is blood and shattered glass stained with red all over the place; you fall out a window and break some bones and scrape some skin. Stitches and casts and bandages and antiseptic solve and salve the wounds. But depression is not a sudden disaster. It is more like a cancer: At first its tumorous mass is not even noticeable to the careful eye and then one day -- wham! -- there is a huge, deadly seven-pound lump lodged in your brain or your stomach or your shoulder blade and this thing that your own body has produced is actually trying to kill you. Depression is a lot like that: Slowly, over the years, the data will accumulate in your heart and mind, a computer program for total negativity will build into your system, making life feel more and more unbearable. But you won't even notice it coming on, thinking that it is somehow normal, something about getting older, about turning eight or turning twelve or turning fifteen and then one day you realize that your entire life is just awful, not worth living, a horror and a black blot on the white terrain of human existence. One morning you wake up afraid you are going to live.In my case, I was not frightened in the least bit at the thought that I might live because I was certain, quite certain, that I was already dead. The actual dying part, the withering away of my physical body, was a mere formality. My spirit, my emotional being, whatever you want to call all that inner turmoil that has nothing to do with physical existence, were long gone, dead and gone and only a mass of the most fucking god-awful excruciating pain like a pair of boiling hot tongs clamped tight around my spine and pressing on all my nerves was left in its wake.That's the thing I want to make clear about depression: It's got nothing at all to do with life. In the course of life, there is sadness and pain and sorrow, all of which, in their right time and season, are normal -- unpleasant, but normal. Depression is an altogether different zone because it involves a complete absence: absence of affect, absence of feeling, absence of response, absence of interest. The pain you feel in the course of a major clinical depression is an attempt on nature's part (nature, after all, abhors a vacuum) to fill up the empty space. But for all intents and purposes, the deeply depressed are just the walking, waking dead.And the scariest part is that if you ask anyone in the throes of depression how he got there, to pin down the turning point, he'll never know. There is a classic moment in The Sun Also Rises when someone asks Mike Campbell how he went bankrupt and all he can say in response is, 'Gradually and then suddenly.' When someone asks how I love my mind, that is all I can say too
Elizabeth Wurtzel
What do you know about somebody not being good enough for somebody else? And since when did you care whether Corinthians stood up or fell down? You've been laughing at us all your life. Corinthians. Mama. Me. Using us, ordering us and judging us: how we cook your food; how we keep your house. But now, all of a sudden, you have Corinthians' welfare at heart and break her up from a man you don't approve of. Who are you to approve or disapprove anybody or anything? I was breathing air in the world thirteen years before your lungs were even formed. Corinthians, twelve. . . . but now you know what's best for the very woman who wiped the dribble from your chin because you were too young to know how to spit. Our girlhood was spent like a found nickel on you. When you slept, we were quiet; when you were hungry, we cooked; when you wanted to play, we entertained you; and when you got grown enough to know the difference between a woman and a two-toned Ford, everything in this house stopped for you. You have yet to . . . move a fleck of your dirt from one place to another. And to this day, you have never asked one of us if we were tired, or sad, or wanted a cup of coffee. . . . Where do you get the RIGHT to decide our lives? . . . I'll tell you where. From that hog's gut that hangs down between your legs. . . . I didn't go to college because of him. Because I was afraid of what he might do to Mama. You think because you hit him once that we all believe you were protecting her. Taking her side. It's a lie. You were taking over, letting us know you had the right to tell her and all of us what to do. . . . I don't make roses anymore and you have pissed your last in this house.
Toni Morrison
God saw Hansen tighten his chokehold on Day and he could see his lover fighting to breathe. Day’s ears and neck were bright red. His lips were turning a darker color as his body was deprived of oxygen. Hansen pressed the barrel in deeper and yelled.Two minutes and fifteen seconds before I get to zero and I provide the great state of Georgia the luxury of one less narc.God’s mind exploded at the thought of not having Day in a world he lived in. He looked into his partner’s glistening eyes and saw he was turning blue and possibly getting ready to faint. Day was still looking at him, looking into God’s green eyes.No, no, no! He’s saying good-bye.God closed his eyes and released a loud, gut-wrenching growl cutting off the SWAT leader’s negotiations.Godfrey, get yourself under control, his captain said while grabbing for him.God jerked himself away from the hold and stepped forward, his angry eyes boring into Hansen’s dark ones. Hansen stared at him as if God was crazy. Little did he know God was at that moment.Godfrey, get back here and stand down. That’s an order, Detective! his captain barked.God’s large hands clenched at his sides fighting not to pull out his weapons. He ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached.Do you have any idea of the shit storm you’re about to bring down on your life, God spoke with a menacing snarl while his large frame shook with fury. In your arms you hold the only thing in this world that means anything to me. The man that you are pointing a gun at is my only purpose for living. You are threating to kill the only person in this world that gives a fuck about me.God took two more steps forward and was vaguely aware of the complete silence surrounding him. Hansen’s finger hovered shakily over the trigger as he took two large steps back with Day still tight against his chest.God growled again and he saw a shade of fear ghost over Hansen’s sweaty face.If you kill that man, I swear on everything that is holy, I will track you to the ends of the earth, killing and destroying any and everything you hold dear. I will take everything from you and leave you alive to suffer through it. I will bestow upon you the same misery that you have given to me.Hansen shook his head and inched closer to the door behind him.Stay back, he yelled again but this time the demand lacked the courage and venom he exhibited before.You kill that man and you’ll have no idea of the monster you will create. Have you ever met a man with no heart…no conscience…no soul…no purpose? God rumbled, his voice at least twelve octaves lower than the already deep baritone.God yanked his Desert Eagle from his holster in a flash and cocked the hammer back chambering the first round. Hansen stumbled back again, his eyes gone wide with fear.God’s entire body instinctually flexed every muscle in his body and it felt like the large vein in his neck might rupture. His body burned like he had a sweltering fever and he knew his wrath had him a brilliant shade of red.I’m asking you a goddamn question, Hansen! No soul! No conscience! I’m asking you have you ever met the devil! God’s thunderous voice practically rattled the glass in the hanger.If you kill the man I love, you better make your peace with God, because I’m gonna meet your soul in hell. His voice boomed.
A. E. Via