Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories.
Violet said nothing, though big pearly tears, like a child's, trembled at her lashes. She suddenly missed John very much. Into him she could pour all… - John Crowley
Violet said nothing, though big pearly tears, like a child's, trembled at her lashes. She suddenly missed John very much. Into him she could pour all…
- John Crowley
Learning to decipher words had only added to the pleasures of holding spines and turning pages, measuring the journey to the end with a thumb-riffle,… - John Crowley
Learning to decipher words had only added to the pleasures of holding spines and turning pages, measuring the journey to the end with a thumb-riffle,…
The things that make us happy make us wise. - John Crowley
The things that make us happy make us wise.
Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story. - John Crowley
Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story.
The further in you go, the bigger it gets. - John Crowley
The further in you go, the bigger it gets.
First, she wanted to taste the sweat that shone on his throat and fragile clavicle; then he chose to undo the tails of her shirt, that she had tied u… - John Crowley
First, she wanted to taste the sweat that shone on his throat and fragile clavicle; then he chose to undo the tails of her shirt, that she had tied u…
Just as a lamp waved in darkness creates a figure of light in the air, which remains for as long as the lamp repeats its motion exactly, so the unive… - John Crowley
Just as a lamp waved in darkness creates a figure of light in the air, which remains for as long as the lamp repeats its motion exactly, so the unive…
She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm… - John Crowley
She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm…
'Love is a myth,' Grandfather Trout said. 'Like summer.' 'What?' 'In winter,' Grandfather Trout said, 'summer is a myth. A report, a rumor. Not to … - John Crowley
'Love is a myth,' Grandfather Trout said. 'Like summer.' 'What?' 'In winter,' Grandfather Trout said, 'summer is a myth. A report, a rumor. Not to …
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