Behind the cut are quotes from Galveston
, by Sean Stewart.
"Your problem is, you keep expecting life to be fair. You think it ought to be like checkers or something. And if you make all the right moves you win. But it ain't. It's like fishing."
"Maybe you're right. But ... You think it's wrong to strive for a world where merit counts more than luck? I won't ever agree to that."
"Patience is the scar left behind when certain kinds of hope have burned away." Ace was thin and sharp at the edges from hunger, and after so many years trapped in a night that never ended, his skin was waxy white. Paint a joker on him and stick him in the pack for a spare, Sly thought, grinning to herself.
'Will you help me?' The sea broke and hushed, broke and hushed like the slow beating of the world's heart. 'I will,' said Momus."
"The last card down."
"Where'd that come from?"
"Never stopped to think about it." Ace turned up the down card. "Styx, maybe. Lethe. The rivers of Hell."
"Civilization isn't what happens in the absence of barbarity... It's what we struggle to build in the midst of it."
Sloane shrugged. "I want to kill myself," she said. "Hm. That wasn't what I meant to say at all. I suppose it must be true, though. Can you stop me from feeling that?"
"Of course." Momus padded across the storage room to where she stood, plunged his hand into her chest and pulled out her beating heart. Sloane jerked and dropped like a puppet with her strings cut, smacking the side of her face on the plank floor. Beads rattled and a few pieces of ancient confetti drifted up and settled along with the dust. She lay on the floor, shaking. Momus squatted beside her. They looked at her heart together for a moment, the bloody organ shaking in his palm.
He patted the pockets of his waistcoat. "Now where . . . ? Ah. Here we go." From the hip pocket of his ringmaster's suit he pulled out a doll. Sloane recognized it immediately. It was herself as a girl, only prettier, wilder, more exotic that she had ever been. Its dress was made of blue velvet, trimmer--more fancifully than Jane Gardner would ever have allowed--with lace from a veil she had lost a year ago. The doll's features were sharper and more beautiful than hers had ever been, and where Sloane's hair was mouse-brown, the doll's was fiery red. Her eyes were made from glinting jade buttons.
Momus stuffed her heart into the doll. "There we go, all tucked away. Doesn't that feel better?"
Sloane plays three characters in this book. :)
The purest devil I know.
Imagecrafter. Emotional paint.
He wields the brush without looking.
I don't believe in ideal matches.
I believe in real people, as they come.
All these questions are loaded.
But it's a challenge.
Grain too fine or coarse,
okay is too simple for flowers in rain,
drops on thorns and who is to say
which ones will last so
watch petals dance
and answer them
with a smile.
tapping the keys in time
typing a note to a beat
to the song as it plays
doubtless, always on