Caroline

“The palest ink will endure beyond the memories of man”
― Tan Twan Eng, The Garden of Evening Mists

“I’m just confusing the thrill of being young with the notion that the era in which I was young was in any way especially creative or remarkable.”
― Stewart Lee, How I Escaped My Certain Fate

“Like the wild animals I make my paths. This conclusion came later. Like the redbuck, no, not like the redbuck and the zebra, not like the buffalo or herd animals of whatever kind that supplement each other's senses and confront crises together and survive what alone they would be too weak for, and that yet fall prey as individuals, and yet die alone, each in his time. I tread my own track, so clearly purposeful that I know I have already dwelt a long time in these pars, or rather there has never been any question of dwelling. Rather I should say: I too survive here, but I rely on myself, and even on the days when it feels as if everywhere under the earth there are snake-eggs lying, even then I have to fend for myself and try not to tread on them.”
― Wilma Stockenström, The Expedition to the Baobab Tree

“Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?”
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle