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“I think here I will leave you. It has come to seem
there is no perfect ending.
Indeed, there are infinite endings.
Or perhaps, once one begins,
there are only endings.”
― Faithful and Virtuous Night
there is no perfect ending.
Indeed, there are infinite endings.
Or perhaps, once one begins,
there are only endings.”
― Faithful and Virtuous Night
“He shrugged. “I have a stomach thing. Don’t get close.”
“Well, now you’ve spoiled everything,” I said casually, working hard to fake it. “I was planning to seduce you in the broom closet.” I pointed. “Right there.”
A joyless smile appeared on Jamie’s lips. “We are far too screwed-up for a goddamned love
triangle.”
That’s my Jamie.”
―
“Well, now you’ve spoiled everything,” I said casually, working hard to fake it. “I was planning to seduce you in the broom closet.” I pointed. “Right there.”
A joyless smile appeared on Jamie’s lips. “We are far too screwed-up for a goddamned love
triangle.”
That’s my Jamie.”
―
“Witches were a bit like cats. They didn’t much like one another’s company but they did like to know where all the other witches were, just in case they needed them. And what you might need them for was to tell you, as a friend, that you were beginning to cackle.”
― A Hat Full of Sky
― A Hat Full of Sky
“We got the spell exactly right. Except for the ingredients. And most of the poetry. And it probably wasn’t the right time. And Gytha took most of it home for the cat, which couldn’t of been proper.”
― Wyrd Sisters
― Wyrd Sisters
“If this turns to friendship, it only means
That one of us will suffer.
That when we meet after the worst of endings,
There will only be this skein of words between us—
Most of them for boredom, fewer for loneliness—
Rising out of our mutual space of breath, leaving
Behind a bluer sky each moment of departure.
And one of us will cling on to its blue,
Hung on partings like a muted cloud, while
The other rides on a wing of word away from here.”
― Below: Absence: Poems
That one of us will suffer.
That when we meet after the worst of endings,
There will only be this skein of words between us—
Most of them for boredom, fewer for loneliness—
Rising out of our mutual space of breath, leaving
Behind a bluer sky each moment of departure.
And one of us will cling on to its blue,
Hung on partings like a muted cloud, while
The other rides on a wing of word away from here.”
― Below: Absence: Poems
Mandy’s 2025 Year in Books
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