Traci Morris

“He had the sourdough smell of age. His chest sagged into shrivelled teats; his lovemaking was unreliable, yet she found it strangely wholesome in a way that defied sense.”
― Richard Flanagan, The Narrow Road to the Deep North

“they together staggered through those days that built like a scream that never ended, a wet, green shriek Dorrigo Evans found perversely amplified by the quinine deafness, the malarial haze that meant a minute took a lifetime to pass and that sometimes it was not possible to recall a week of misery and horror.”
― Richard Flanagan, The Narrow Road to the Deep North

“He understood that he shared certain features, habits and history with the war hero. But he was not him. He’d just had more success at living than at dying,”
― Richard Flanagan, The Narrow Road to the Deep North