“Heather, did Mr. Abnesti just now make you decide which of us, me or Rogan, to give some Darkenfloxx™ to?” I said. “Yes,” Heather said. She must have been on some VeriTalk™, because she spoke the truth in spite of Abnesti’s withering silencing glance. “Did you recently fuck Rogan, Heather?” I said. “In addition to me? And also fall in love with him, as you did with me?” “Yes,” she said.

Nearby was a brick. I grabbed it, glanced Mike in the head with it. Then was on top of him. Mike gave. That is, there on his back, scalp bleeding, he gave, by shooting me a certain look, like, Dude, come on, we’re not all that serious about this, are we?

because after that came her biggie: a triple murder—her dealer, the dealer’s sister, the dealer’s sister’s boyfriend

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both

yellow wood

microcosm:

Memory is an old Mexican woman sweeping her yard with a broom. She has grown even smaller now, residing at that vanishing point

took a train to Chicago for factory work, for packaging bolts.

When a guard smashes one, the shell cracks open and the muscles ooze.

Because there was little else to do, one of them chased a stray with his tail between his legs and shot him through the head

II. Mud

barracks

“Alive? Yes, Annie; it may well be said to possess life, for it has absorbed my own being into itself; and in the secret of that butterfly, and in its beauty,–which is not merely outward, but deep as its whole system,–is represented the intellect, the imagination, the sensibility, the soul of an Artist of the Beautiful! Yes; I created it. But”–and here his countenance somewhat changed–“this butterfly is not now to me what it was when I beheld it afar off in the daydreams of my youth.”

Artist of the Beautiful in darkness.

“Poh, child! He has not the sort of ingenuity to invent anything better than a Dutch toy,” answered her father, who had formerly been put to much vexation by Owen Warland’s irregular genius. “A plague on such ingenuity! All the effect that ever I knew of it was to spoil the accuracy of some of the best watches in my shop. He would turn the sun out of its orbit and derange the whole course of time, if, as I said before, his ingenuity could grasp anything bigger than a child’s toy!”

“Remove it, remove it, whatever be the cost, or we shall both go mad!”  

When wearied of this, Aylmer bade her cast her eyes upon a vessel containing a quantity of earth. She did so, with little interest at first; but was soon startled to perceive the germ of a plant shooting upward from the soil. Then came the slender stalk; the leaves gradually unfolded themselves; and amid them was a perfect and lovely flower.  

Aylmer sat in his wife’s presence with a guilty feeling.

Aylmer’s sombre imagination was not long in rendering the birthmark a frightful object, causing him more trouble and horror than ever Georgiana’s beauty, whether of soul or sense, had given him delight.

“but never on yours. No, dearest Georgiana, you came so nearly perfect from the hand of Nature that this slightest possible defect, which we hesitate whether to term a defect or a beauty, shocks me, as being the visible mark of earthly imperfection.”  

“No, indeed,” said she, smiling; but perceiving the seriousness of his manner, she blushed deeply. “To tell you the truth it has been so often called a charm that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so.”

was attended with truly remarkable consequences and a deeply impressive moral

congenial aliment

Doesn’t she look pretty? everyone said. Consummation at last. To every woman a happy ending. 

manual dexterity