Susie

“They say that to know oneself is to know all there is that is human. But of course no one can ever know himself. Nothing human is finally calculable; even to ourselves we are strange.”
― Gore Vidal, Julian

“A horror of great darkness fell upon me; I felt my chamber invaded by one I had known formerly, but had thought for ever departed. I was temporarily a prey to hypochondria. She had been my acquaintance, nay, my guest, once before in boyhood; I had entertained her at bed and board for a year; for that space of time I had her to myself in secret; she lay with me, she ate with me, she walked out with me, showing me nooks in woods, hollows in hills, where we could sit together, and where she could drop her drear veil over me, and so hide sky and sun, grass and green tree; taking me entirely to her death-cold bosom, and holding me with arms of bone. What tales she would tell me at such hours! What songs she would recite in my ears! How she would discourse to me of her own country—the grave—and again and again prom- ise to conduct me there ere long; and, drawing me to the very brink of a black, sullen river, show me, on the other side, shores unequal with mound, monument, and tablet, standing up in a glimmer more hoary than moonlight. “Necropolis!” she would whisper, pointing to the pale piles, and add, “It contains a mansion prepared for you.”
― Charlotte Brontë, The Professor

“swingeing.”
― Charles Spencer, The White Ship: Conquest, Anarchy and the Wrecking of Henry I’s Dream

“the fact of the matter was that this sort of explanation jibed perfectly with the way men like Beria and Ordzhonikidze were wont to view the world. Namely that the outward pretenses maintained by important men—scientists, in this case—concealed subtle and hidden motives, and that to understand as much was to be sophisticated and therefore strong.”
― Neal Stephenson, Polostan