Beautiful, Irritating

... all beautiful as only the young can be beautiful. Even the ugly ones were beautiful, even the surly ones, the fat ones, even the spotty ones. None of them understands this--how beautiful they are. But nevertheless they're irritating, the young. Their posture is appalling as a rule, and judging from their songs they snivel and wallow, grin and bear it having gone the way of the foxtrot. They don't understand their own luck.

Noted from Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin

Some People Can't

"But some people can't tell tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't stop hurting."

Noted from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

Colours She Looked Locked Up In

"I could picture... the dress she would have been wearing, a shirtwaist with a small rounded collar, in a sober colour--navy blue or steel grey or hospital corridor green. Penitential colors--less like something she'd chosen to put on than like something she'd been locked up in."

Noted from The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

Reading in the Dark

The combination of storm and a blackout sent me straight to the Dark Ages last week: no television, no Internet, no mobile phone. Thankfully, I'm old enough to have grown up during the time when Lent or Holy Week entailed similar deprivations. So I resorted to what I love best: reading. I was amazed at how much reading I had accomplished with all the modern distractions taken away, and also relieved that I'm still capable of sitting down for a few hours at a time.


Sometimes, a candle, a good novel and coffee are all you need.