Great Circle: the dazzling, instant New York Times bestseller

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

She was at an age when the future adult rattles the child’s bones like the bars of a cage.

In her journal, in what’s now Namibia, Marian had written: I’d like to think I will remember this particular moon, seen from the particular angle of this balcony on this night, but if I forget, I will never know that I’ve forgotten, as is the nature of forgetting. I’ve forgotten so much—almost all I’ve seen. Experience washes over us in great waves

I’m always fascinated by things that turn into phenomenons. Like, why, you know? What is it that strikes a chord in so many people? When it happens, it seems so intuitive in retrospect, like you can clearly see the void that was filled, but the real trick is identifying the void when it’s still a void.”

bibliomancer,

obsidian gloss

They were a pair, as some things naturally and undeniably were, and once a pair was established, everything outside it (himself, for example) became inevitably and inherently extraneous.

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.