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“In short: I felt my existence was tainted, in some subtle but essential way.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“Being in a state of denial is a
universally human response to
situations which threaten to
overwhelm. People who were abused
as children sometimes carry their
denial like precious cargo without a
port of destination. It enabled us to
survive our childhood experiences, and often we still live in survival mode decades beyond the actual abuse. We protect ourselves to excess because we learned abruptly and painfully that no one else would.”
― Sarah E. Olson, Becoming One: A Story of Triumph Over Dissociative Identity Disorder

“In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory; or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party”
― Donna Tartt

“It seems to me that psychology is only another word for what the ancients called fate.”
― Donna Tartt

“If the creek predates the city deep in time, then is it right to identify the creek solely with the city? The city has forgotten the creek, as it's forgotten those who walk its side, but the creek didn't need to be known all that long time before the city ever was. Maybe now Hogan's Creek is too steeped in history to claim an independence grounded in prehistory, because the city has too deeply poisoned it for far too long. Then again, there was all that time the creek flowed and had no name. Without a name you belong solely to yourself.”
― Tim Gilmore

“Our own selves makes us most
unhappy,and thats why we're so
anxious to lose them,dont you think;”
― dona tartt

“She hadn't seen me in awhile, and she said, "Where have you been? You disappeared off the face of the map." I agreed, and replied, "I am Frisland.”
― Jarod Kintz, Powdered Saxophone Music

“Arnold went into treason as into a business, surveying the ground and estimating the possible profits.”
― Van Doren Carl C

“A rough-hewn, squarish tunnel, maybe eight feet on a side, carved through dark stone, stretched ahead of him curving off to the left. Smokeless flames flickered in sconces spaced along the walls.
Okay, first question: Who lit the sconces? And second what were the flames feeding on?
What did it matter? In sharp contrast to the blah, semi-modern characterless buildings on the surface, this tunnel looked ancient. And that gave Frankie hope. Because it might lead somewhere else.
Was it unreasonable to hope it led back to Manhatten-his Manhatten? Most certainly. Did he have a better route to follow? No.
With the manuscript of the Great American Novella clutched to his chest, P.Frank Winslow started walking.”
― F.Paul Wilson

“If time is a web then it is a series of straight and crooked lines, but it is also a spiral with many gaps in between.”
― -Kalen Doleman