I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.
MAKE ME CHOOSE — @kuweisyulbos asked the secret history or vicious
It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? [insp]
MAKE ME CHOOSE — @kuweisyulbos asked the secret history or vicious
It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? [insp]
“Does such a thing as ‘the fatal flaw,’ that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature? I used to think it didn’t. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.”
TSH + SEVEN DEADLY SINS: credit
⇨ Henry Winter as Pride: Henry honors his own goals and heroism above all others, he dies and lives of pride. Since Pride is considered the most dangerous out of all the seven sins, the perpetrator and the source, it seems fitting for Henry. He was the one who dragged all the others into his bacchanal, his alibis, pulling them along in his irreversible quest.
@inkedpagesnet creation meme: favorite standalone books
- the secret history, donna tartt
“But how,” said Charles, who was close to tears, “how can you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?’ Henry lit a cigarette. “I prefer to think of it,” he had said, “as redistribution of matter.”
Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it’s going to kill us;
Donna Tartt
But walking through it all was one thing; walking away, unfortunately, has proved to be quite another, and though once I thought I had left that ravine forever on an April afternoon long ago, now I am not so sure. Now the searchers have departed, and life has grown quiet around me, I have come to realize that while for years I might have imagined myself to be somewhere else, in reality I have been there all the time: up at the top by the muddy wheel-ruts in the new grass, where the sky is dark over the shivering apple blossoms and the first chill of the snow that will fall that night is already in the air. [insp]