欧宝娱乐

“He drew in a breath and all the seasons were in it; spring greenness in the grass, and somewhere a dog-rose blooming; the secretive scent of fungus clinging to the oak, and underneath it all something sharper waiting in a promise of winter.”
― Sarah Perry, The Essex Serpent

“The sight of one's own heart is degrading; people are not meant to look inward -- that's why they've been given bodies, to hide their souls.”
― Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

“[...] 'You, sir,' the man said, addressing Essex. 'Do you atone?'
'Daily,' said Essex.
'Sin?'
'When I can,' said Essex manfully.
'Metal?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'How do you stand on metal? Allow yourselves metal fastenings? Meat? Ills of the flesh?'
'I am heir to all of them,' said Essex, inspired. [...]”
― Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

“Reality,' Essex said. 'Reality. What is real, Aunt Fanny?'
'The Truth,' said Aunt Fanny at once.
'Mrs. Willow, what is real?'
'Comfort, ' said Mrs. Willow.
'Miss Ogilvie, what is real?'
'Oh, dear.' Miss Ogilvie looked for help to Mrs. Willow, to Julia. 'I couldn't really say, not having had that much experience. Well... food, I guess.'
'Maryjane,' said Essex, 'what is reality?'
'What?' Maryjane stared with her mouth open. 'You mean, something real, like something not in the movies?'
'A dream world,' Arabella supplied.
Julia laughed. 'Essex,' she said, 'what is real?'
Essex bowed to her gravely. 'I am real,' he said. 'I am not at all sure about the rest of you.'
[...]
'Well, reality,' Mrs. Willow said finally, 'all it means is money. A roof over your head, of course, and a little something three times a day and maybe a drop to drink. But mostly money. Clothes. Looking nice, and feeling a little chipper, and of course,' she added, giving Essex a wink -- and provoking Arabella into saying 'Mother, dear!' -- 'a man in your bed. Reality!' and now it sounded as though Mrs. Willow might be saying 'May wine,' or even possibly 'tropical moonlight,' and she gave a happy little sigh.”
― Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

“Essex made a face. 'Ambrosia is not my drink.”
― Shirley Jackson, The Sundial

“speaking with him was not unlike conversing with a heavy brick wall that, now and then, aimed a barb at you for so addressing it.”
― Johannes T. Evans, Heart of Stone