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“You said you envied your unthinking, untroubled sisters."
"That is not the same thing as wishing to be one.”
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"That is not the same thing as wishing to be one.”
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“Grigoire has exquisite fingers, long and pliant. Robert Schumann maimed his hands by tying weights to ’em. He thought it’d increase his range at the keyboard. Majestic string quartets but what a bloody fool! Grigoire on the other hand possesses perfect hands by birth but probably doesn’t know a crotchet from crochet.”
― Cloud Atlas
― Cloud Atlas
“History is about who we collectively are and how we feel about it. It's one of the attempted answers to the great human question: what the hell is going on? Most animals don't ask that question, which is why you can put a massive Ikea next to a field of sheep and they just go on grazing. Not even twenty minutes of bleats and gestures and questioning looks, they're just not interested. But a vast amount of human endeavour is an attempt to answer it in different ways: all the sciences and all the humanities. Microscopes, philosophies, religions and poems are all having a go.”
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“Tell-tale-tit, are you? Two can play at that game. If you tell on me, I'll tell my friend the Ghost of Christmas Future where your house is, and do you know what he'll do to you?"
The wide-eyed shitletto shook his head, shaken and stirred.
"When your family is all tucked up asleep in your snug little beds, he'll slide into your house through the crack under the door and eat – your – 150
puppy!" The venom in my bile duct pumped fast. "He'll leave its curly tail under your pillow and you'll get blamed. Your little friends will all scream, 'Puppy slayer!' whenever they see you coming. You'll grow old and friend-less and die, alone, miserably, on Christmas morning half a century from now. So if I were you, I wouldn't breathe a word to anyone about seeing me."
I pushed myself through the hedge before he could take it all in. As I was heading back to the station along the pavement, the wind carried his sob: "But I don't even have a puppy …”
― Cloud Atlas
The wide-eyed shitletto shook his head, shaken and stirred.
"When your family is all tucked up asleep in your snug little beds, he'll slide into your house through the crack under the door and eat – your – 150
puppy!" The venom in my bile duct pumped fast. "He'll leave its curly tail under your pillow and you'll get blamed. Your little friends will all scream, 'Puppy slayer!' whenever they see you coming. You'll grow old and friend-less and die, alone, miserably, on Christmas morning half a century from now. So if I were you, I wouldn't breathe a word to anyone about seeing me."
I pushed myself through the hedge before he could take it all in. As I was heading back to the station along the pavement, the wind carried his sob: "But I don't even have a puppy …”
― Cloud Atlas
“So, now you know about Eva. The affair hollowed me out, but what, pray resounds in hollows? Music, Sixsmith, let there be Music and behold.”
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