Killing Karoline by Sara-Jayne King

36126050.jpg– There are moments in the short years we are given when that which we may once have considered the riskiest path of all becomes the surest ground on which we can walk. –

– Adoption, I have found…creates gaps for assumptions, false imaginings and, ultimately, disappointments. –

– This is what happens to a person when they destroy themselves. They have to believe their own lies because to face the truth will kill them. –

– With every new day I’m in South Africa I’m ambushed by troubling realisations of the way things are here. I had no idea it was still so … bad. . . I’m met by a land still undeniably divided along colour lines, nowhere close to rebalancing its glaring inequalities. –

– I am a sister … but with conditions. –



Green Girl by Kate Zambreno

18505840– Perhaps without a mother one can no longer be young. –

– British food was the current catastrophe of Ruth’s life. –

– The agony of becoming. This is what she experiences. The young girl. She would like to be someone, anyone else. She wants, vaguely, to be something more than she is. But she does not know what that is, or how one goes about doing such things. –

–Celebrity is a drug we take, only afterwards we realize we are ugly and no one loves us. –

– Being a girl is like always being a tourist, always conscious of yourself, always seeing yourself as if from the outside. –

– He bought her the books he thought she should read, which were mostly the obvious books, because he wasn’t that well-read either, but liked to see himself as her brilliant tutor. –

Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami

4929.jpg– Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. –

– Our responsibility begins with the power to imagine. –

– I never ask the impossible. That’s a colossal waste of time, don’t you agree? –

– Silence, I discover, is something you can actually hear. –

– While they’re still alive, people can become ghosts. –

– In truth, all sensation is already memory. –

– Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart. –

– The process of writing was important. Even though the finished product is completely meaningless. –

– Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to slip through it. But even if you go to the ends of the earth, you won’t be able to escape it. –

Paris in Love by Eloisa James

12958655.jpg– I never did learn how to live in the moment, but I did learn that moments could be wasted and the world would continue to spin on its axis. –

– “I was going to buy you flowers because of the argument we had yesterday.” I looked at his empty hands. He shrugged. “There were too many to choose from.” –

– My father, my darling father of a thousand poems and more, has taken to watching leaves fall from their trees. Rather than knit those leaves into words, he simply allows them to fall. It’s a cruel fate: to watch without recounting the fall of the leaf; to grieve without creating anew; to age without describing it. –

– I remember that when my parents were newly married and very poor, my mother served a group of unwary poets a silky meat pâté – made from cat food. –

– My Parisian December went a long way to mending a crack in my heart caused by the words, “the biopsy was positive.” To eat as the French do is to celebrate life, even to indulge in it. –

– Luca says the fact that Alessandro and I launched into a battle during his sixteenth-birthday celebration has undoubtedly scarred him forever and he will never go on vacation with us again. In the meantime, he would like his computer back so that he can communicate with other teens whose parents are raving nuts. –

– Two tourists passed me, both holding small video recorders…I want to experience where I am and what I’m seeing, not view it only through the eye of a camera, for canned viewing later. –

– “Mama,” Anna said impatiently, “this is a novel! There has to be some crying.” –

The Mitford Murders by Jessica Fellowes

35221022– They’d looked forward to post-war life for so long, only to find that nothing could be returned to the way it was before. –

– Louisa loved her mother but sometimes she resembled nothing more than one of the pillowcases she so faithfully washed and pressed: clean, – white, smelling of Lux flakes and existing only to provide comfort for others. –

– Perhaps we shan’t ever marry and we’ll be the “surplus women” they’re always worrying about in the newspapers. We shall wear thick worsted stockings and glasses, and grow our own vegetables. We could read books all day long and never dress for dinner. –

– Having the physical strength to fight back didn’t always mean you could. Fear or shame held hands down tighter than any rope. –

Love and Other Consolation Prizes by Jamie Ford

Love.jpg– He missed her terribly, even when he was by her side – he ached for who she used to be. He longed for who he used to be as well. –

– Some people collect pennies or feathers. Others collect commemorative ribbons or stamps of the world. I collect first kisses. –

– ‘My theory,’ Maisie said, ‘is that the best, worst, happiest, saddest, scariest, and most memorable moments are all connected. Those are the important times, good and bad. The rest is just filler. –

– He left the paper in the typewriter like a loaded gun with the safety off, an unlocked cage with something big moving around inside, a lit fuse. –

– You can buy a body, but the heart…The heart, you can’t even rent. –

– Sometimes you need to feel the sadness, you need to feel everything to finally leave it behind, to have peace. –

New Times by Rehana Rossouw

NEW-TIMES-COV– African time strolls at a leisurely pace, meandering down a time zone that’s several hours behind the rest of the globe, pausing to meet and greet everyone in its path as it makes its tardy way to the next appointment. It can be so very charming…It can also hold people back – when you are oppressed and going nowhere you never rush. –

– Newsrooms are the last refuge of society’s weirdos. –

– Sometimes it is hard to understand the choices people make when they’re finally free to have what they want. –

– People don’t greet at The New Times, the white people in particular. They drop their heads and stare at the floor like the answer to the meaning of life is carved there when they hear my hello. –

– Deadlines aggravate me; especially the ones that creep up fast and force me to file my stories before I’m convinced there’s nothing more I can do to improve them. –

– How are we supposed to build a better life for all when we’re all so fucked up? When all we know is killing and torture and racial oppression? It’s only been a year but I can already see this government is making some of the same mistakes. –

– When will people realise they can’t eat reconciliation? –

New Times via Jacana

Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie

35994620– Sometimes the dead were friendly presences, but today the dead were only dead and every chiselled slab was a marker of someone’s sorrow. –

– The 7/7 terrorists were never described by the media as “British terrorists”. Even when the word “British” was used it was always “British of Pakistani descent” or “British Muslim” or, my favourite, “British passport-holders, always something interposed between their Britishness and terrorism. –

– It didn’t matter if they were on this or that side of the political spectrum, or whether the fathers were absent or present, or if someone else had loved them better, loved them more: in the end they were always their fathers’ sons. –

– He didn’t know how to break out of these currents of history, how to shake free of the demons he had attached to his own heels. –

– Grief heard its death sentence the morning you both woke up and one was singing and the other caught the song. –

– She held [rage] to her breast, she fed it, she stroked its mane, she whispered love to it under the starless sky, and sharpened her teeth on its gleaming claws. –


Book Bite for the Sunday Times:

Uncommon Type by Tom Hanks

34377041– Being Anna’s boyfriend was like training to be a Navy SEAL while working full-time in an Amazon fulfillment center in the Oklahoma Panhandle in tornado season. –

– The men whispered with the confidence of experienced soldiers, which they were, not like twenty-two-year-old boys, which they also were. –

– Her roommates had come to view her as an unexorcised poltergeist, one that had to be negotiated around. Then again, they were not really her roommates but her hosts, making Sue feel as welcome as an abdominal parasite. –

– She was not looking to buy an old typewriter. She needed nothing and wanted no more possessions––new, used, antique––not a thing. She had vowed to weather her recent personal setbacks with an era of Spartan living; a new minimalism, a life she could fit in her car. –

– Bert was not buckling his seat belt for landing. He owned the plane. Screw the FAA. –


Koolaids by Rabih Alameddine

24945414.jpg– Death comes in many shapes and sizes, but it always comes.
No one escapes the little tag on the big toe. –

– Whether it was sunset, sunrise, cloudy day, or sunny day, Ben’s skies were always cerulean blue. –

– Man is nothing more than giant genitalia for viruses. –

– What if I told you that life has no unity? It is a series of nonlinear vignettes leading nowhere, a tale, told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. It makes no sense, enjoy it. –

– Do you realize if antidepressants were available fifty years ago, the existentialists could have been happy? We would have been spared reading so many dull books. –

– Many people remember past lives clearly. How is that possible, you ask.
Drugs is one possibility. Schizophrenia is another. –

– I wanted to write a poem on my deathbed. –

– In the cosmic circularity of the doctrine of the eternal return, Nietzsche forces together times and eternity. What is, has been, and will be innumerable times at immense intervals. Who gives a shit, I ask you? –