Sabria

“In the realm of sense and reason it seemed logical for something to make sense for no reason (natural order) or not make sense for some reason (the deliberate design of deception) but it seemed perverse to have things make no sense for no reason. What if you colonize your own mind and when you get inside, the furniture is attached to the ceiling? What if you step inside and when you touch the furniture, you realize it’s all just cardboard cutouts and it all collapses beneath the pressure of your finger? What if you get inside and there’s no furniture? What if you get inside and it’s just you in there, sitting in a chair, rolling figs and eggs around in the basket on your lap and humming a little tune? What if you get inside and there’s nothing there, and then the door hatch closes and locks? What is worse: being locked outside of your own mind, or being locked inside of it?”
― Carmen Maria Machado, Her Body and Other Parties: Stories

“But every time I go to the cafe I remember that writing a book can hurt, it can hurt as much as climbing a mountain. Not writing a book hurts too. Not writing, well, that's like swallowing a mountain and having it jammed in your throat, unclimbed, unchallenged, unspoken, and unwritten.”
― Salena Godden, Mrs Death Misses Death

“And what shall we make ourselves from today? A memory, a seedling, a word? What can we hold up to the light and find despair has not yet touched?”
― Heather Christle, The Crying Book

“Even horror can be homely.”
― Doireann Ní Ghríofa, A Ghost in the Throat