Jamie found he liked how the people he drew gave him permission to look closely and without hurry at their faces. He liked how people became vulnerable when they were about to be drawn, revealed more than they intended with their little adjustments. They sat up straighter or slouched, met his eye or evaded it. They seemed to become more themselves

Your life can’t be a debt, she’d countered once, or then it’s not really yours, and nothing has been saved.

they wouldn’t like the books if the story gave them exactly what they wanted.

People like to remind her that she is from outside. You can’t become an Alaskan. It’s just not possible. She is not one of them, but still, she feels she belongs.

She considers flying to see Jamie but finds she doesn’t want to leave Alaska, is frightened by the thought of crossing back into her old life. So maybe she’s not quite herself again, not that she’s foolish enough to think there is one fixed version of a person.

No one in Hollywood cares I was unfaithful to Oliver, but they’ll care I was unfaithful to the brand.”

That night we were late to dinner with Oliver because we’d been in bed. But we weren’t having sex when we lost track of time. I mean, we’d had sex, but we were lying there talking, making those first big careless, gleeful excavations when everything about someone is new and unknown, before you have to get out your little picks and brushes, work ted

obsidian gloss

bibliomancer,