[b]Jean Rhys
Everything in their whole bloody world is a cliché. Everything is born out of a cliché, rests on a cliché, survives by a cliché. And they believe in the clichés - there’s no hope.[/b]
And now they’re about to elect another one.
May you tear each other to bits, you damned hyenas, and the quicker the better. Let it be destroyed. Let it happen. Let it end, this cold insanity.
Not much in this world that isn’t appliable to.
Only seven or eight, and yet she knew so exactly how to be cruel and who it was safe to be cruel to.
He thought: Great, another Kid in the making.
But in the daytime it was all right. And when you’d had a drink you knew it was the best way to live in the world because anything might happen. I don’t know how people live when they know exactly what’s going to happen to them each day.
Right, like any of us really do. But, sure, point taken.
As soon as you have reached this heaven of indifference, you are pulled out of it. From your heaven you have to go back to hell. When you are dead to the world, the world often rescues you, if only to make a figure of fun out of you.
Okay world try and rescue me now.
She was a shadow, kept alive by a flame of hatred for somebody who had long ago forgotten all about her.
Think about that.
No, really.
So, does the shoe fit?