Cristina Morrison

“Something is very wrong with Bunce. She's collapsed in the back seat like a dead rabbit. But I can't really focus on it because of the sun and also the wind and because I'm very busy making a list.

Things I hate, a list:
1. The sun.
2. The wind.
3. Penelope Bunce, when she hasn't got a plan.
4. American sandwiches.
5. America.
6. The band, America. Which I didn't know about an hour ago.
7. Kansas, also a band I've recently become acquainted with.
8. Kansas, the state. Which isn't that far from Illinois, so it must be wretched.
9. The State of Illinois, for fucking certain.
10. The sun. In my eyes.
11. The wind in my hair.
12. Convertible automobiles.
13. Myself, most of all.
14. My soft heart.
15. My foolish optimism.
16. The words "road" and "trip" when said together with any enthusiasm.
17. Being a vampire, if we're being honest.
18. Being a vampire in a fucking convertible.
19. A deliriously thirsty vampire in a convertible at midday. In Illinois, which is apparently the brightest place on the planet.
20. The sun. Which hangs miles closer to Minooka, Illinois, than it does over London blessed England.
21. Minooka, Illinois. Which seems dreadful.
22. These sunglasses. Rubbish.
23. The fucking sun! We get it - you're very fucking bright!
24. Penelope Bunce, who came up with this idea. An idea not accompanied by a plan. Because all she cared about was seeing her rubbish boyfriend, who clearly cocked it all up. Which we all should have expected from someone from Illinois, land of the damned - a place that manages to be both hot and humid at the same time. You might well expect hell to be hot, but you don't expect it to also be humid. That's what makes it hell, the surprise twist! The devil is clever!”
― Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son

“Do you think death is the end of everything, Marie-Anne?” “I hope so,” whispered Marieanne.
“Here on the Brittany coast we believe something different. Death is not something that is coming, but rather something that is all around us. Here.” Clara pointed at the air. “There.” She gestured toward the trees. Then she bent forward and took a little white sand in her hands. “Death is like this.” She let the sand trickle from her left hand into her right. “One life goes in and takes a break in death.” Now she let the sand run out of her right hand onto the ground. “Another life comes out. It makes a journey, oui? Like flowing water. Water in a moulin. In a mill. Death is that short break.”
― Nina George, The Little French Bistro

“Good morning.
You got a good head on your shoulders.
As for your shoulders?
F***ing magnificent.
GO get ’em today.”
― Lin-Manuel Miranda, Gmorning, Gnight!: Little Pep Talks for Me & You

“Perhaps it was the weeks in the cage alone. Perhaps it was the lack of control. Perhaps it was the heat and the fire and the fear. Her instincts would have told her to go to water perhaps. I don't know. All I know is that she's done this thing that she's been too scared to do for all the years she's been here, sitting for endless hours at her beach. I am so proud of her, it swells in my throat and I find it difficult to swallow. All I can see is the back of her head, brown in the sun, splattered with water droplets and lagoon sludge, the slick pale tips of her ears and the dark tuft of her tail swishing through the water. Everything that I feel for her swells up too, unexpected and completely flooring. I'm absolutely wrecked, my body broken and my mind shattered. Is this love? I don't know. All I know is that I've never felt anything like this before in my life.”
― Laura Coleman, The Puma Years