“Just because you're into Kate...well, it doesn't necessarily mean you're gay. Although it's okay if you are. But if that's what's worrying you...' Ariel sighed. 'God. It shouldn't be so hard to talk about this stuff. All I'm saying is maybe you're gay and maybe you're not. Maybe you're bi. Or maybe it's totally a Kate thing. Maybe you'd want to be with her whether she was a girl or a boy.'
I blinked. I didn't know if what she said made things better or worse.”
“You can rèmove a tattoo; it's just difficult. And supposedly it's pretty painful. Some things, on the other hand, can't be undone.”
“All I knew now was that nothing lasted forever, not even a friendship, and that being "different" felt the same as being alone.”
“I didn’t know what I thought, other than that nothing was easy anymore and no matter what I did, things got messed up.”
“But if I didn't know Kate, then maybe I didn't know myself-and if was that not-knowing that made my gut clench. Like losing your balance, that whoosh of almost falling, before pulling yourself back in line.”
“One knows so little. When one knows more it is too late.”
“I saw the error I was making. I had been thinking of the disaster as a horrible mistake, as an unscripted deviation from the happy story of the life I had been promised. But now I began to understand that my ordeal in the Andes was not an interruption of my true destiny, or a perversion of what my life was supposed to be. It simply was my life, and the future that lay ahead was the only future available to me. To hide from this fact, or to live in bitterness and anger, would only keep me from living any genuine life at all.”
“All writers are, somewhere or other, mad. Not les grands fous, like Rimbaud, but mad, yes, mad. Because we do not believe in the stability of reality. We know that it can fragment, like a sheet of glass or a car's windscreen. but we also know that reality can be invented, reordered, constructed, remade. Writing is, in itself, an act of violence perpetrated against reality.”
“And then she was looking up into the deep-set, dark eyes of the Marquess of Rockley.”
“Terrible was... He was a miracle in a world without miracles, and she couldn't believe her luck. And there was nothing, absolutely fucking nothing, that she wouldn't do to keep him in her life. Because without him it wouldn't be a life at all.”
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