Sublime

Quite a strange man, thought James, watching him go – but what a relief to discover he still contained the capacity to be taken by surprise.

smiling happily, because Yambe-Akka was merry and light-hearted and her visits were gifts of joy.

认识你的

“You’ve got it wrong, girl,” I would have liked to say to her. “That dead man died because of another story, not yours, a story that hasn’t ended yet.”

G. K. Chesterton once said of Charles Dickens, “Dickens didn’t write what people wanted. Dickens wanted what people wanted.”

But David astonished me. “Poor Mum,” he said, “I guess she’s better off, really.” Now what was I to make of that, from a boy of fourteen?

Her lips moved, silently mouthing the name, ‘U-No-Poo.’ ‘They’ll be murdered in their beds!’ she whispered.

It had to be Death. No one else went around with empty eye sockets and, of course, the scythe over one shoulder was another clue.

“We have children because we can’t remember our own first taste of ambrosia.”