Bernard quotes

“I see a ring,” said Bernard, “hanging above me. It quivers and hangs in a loop of light.”

Bernard says there is always a story. I am a story. Louis is a story.

Is it Paris, is it London where we sit, or some southern city of pink-washed houses lying under cypresses, under high mountains, where eagles soar?

I need a little language such as lovers use, words of one syllable such as children speak when they come into the room and find their mother sewing and pick up some scrap of bright wool, a feather, or a shred of chintz.

Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!