Author: David Benioff
That time of year the sun lingers in the sky for only six hours, scurrying from horizon to horizon as if spooked.
The dead don’t bruise.
I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.
The priests used them to keep people stupid and afraid,
‘They’re not on different sides. Mahler wrote great music. Shostakovich writes great music
The loneliest sound in the world is other people making love.
Cannibals and Nazis didn’t make Kolya nervous, but the threat of embarrassment did – the possibility that a stranger might laugh at the lines he’d written.