Status Updates From Nightwood

“How much of our life do we put into a life that we may be dammed? Then she was back stumbling through the house again, listening for a footstep in the court, for a way to leave and not to go, trying to absorb, with the intensity of her ear, any sound that would have made me suspicious, yet hoping I would break my heart in safety; she need that assurance. Matthew, was it a sin that I believed her?”

right…

“Don’t you know your holding on is her only happiness and so her sole misery.”

AHHHHH

Night people do not bury their dead, but on the neck of you, their beloved and waking, sling the creature, husked of its gestures. And where you go, it goes, the two of you, your living and her dead, that will not die; to daylight, to life, to grief, until both are carrion.

no sooner has our head touched the pillow, and our eyes left the day, than a host of merrymakers take and get. We wake from our doings in a deep sweat for
that they happened in a house without an address, in a street in no town, citizened with people with no names with which to deny them. Their very lack of identity makes them ourselves. For by a street number, by a
house, by a name, we cease to accuse ourselves.

death is intimacy walking backward

page standin for written and directed by tweek 177 pg 79,685or something words