Jeromey Patterson

“She smiled and sipped from her glass. There was altogether too much of her sitting there, the broad expanse of thigh cradled in the insubstantial stocking and the garters with the pale flesh pursed and her full breasts and the sootblack piping of her eyelids, a gaudish rake of metaldust in prussian blue where cerulean moths fluttered her awake from some outlandish dream. Suttree gradually going awash in the sheer outrageous sentience of her. Their glasses clicked on the tabletop. Her hot spiced tongue fat in his mouth and her hands all over him like the very witch of fuck.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Suttree

“She felt ... less. She felt tamped down. Dim. More faint. Feint. Feigned. Fain.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things

“She was weary and disappointed with all of everything.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things