Simon

“She said, the Puritan Milton, on the contrary, makes the moment of the Nativity the moment of the death of Nature—at least, he calls on the old tradition that Greek travellers heard the shrines cry out on that night Weep, Weep, the great god Pan is dead.”
― A.S. Byatt, Possession

“I was the guy at the end of the bar all hunched up and trying to disappear into his overcoat. Flattened hat on worn bar top. Hank of hair dangling over the face of a born lemon-sucker. They were all my breed. My people. Drinking alone or in even lonelier pairs. The guilty. The condemned. The”
― Zack Parsons, Liminal States

“It all took longer than expected and the truck a piece of shit with blown shocks and springs poking through vinyl seat covers and the late light drawing out the shadows in Chance’s neighborhood by the time he and D came finally bouncing up from the Great Highway in the ancient rig, one of many as the afternoon rush hour he’d been hoping to beat lurched into full swing with lines of cars at each and every intersection and jaywalking children with backpacks and cell phones and Chinese workmen unloading fish trucks at competing corner groceries and tattooed teenagers with funny hats on clattering skateboards.”
― Kem Nunn, Chance: A Novel

“Plutarch records that in the early years of the reign of Tiberius the pilot of a ship rounding the Greek archipelago passed a certain island at dawn on the solstice day and heard his name called from shore: “Thamus! When you come near the Palodes, tell them that the great god Pan is dead!” He thought at first to refuse, being afraid, but when he came opposite the Palodes, he called out the words as he had heard them: “Pan is dead! The great god Pan is dead!” And then there arose from the island a lamenting and wailing, not of one voice but of many mingled, as though the earth itself mourned. A shiver ran up Pierce’s spine beneath the blanket. He had read this story before, and had shivered then too.”
― John Crowley, The Solitudes