The cat is there, her paw in the water, waiting. You think what it's like to be lazing to the surface like one of those carp, plump and ripe and stupid. And then the claw, like steel ripping you through, scooping out the guts and white strings of your body's innards so quickly that they think they are still alive, and they wince in the daylight
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Because I like you.
Do you want to borrow anything? Speak now, or hold your peace for quite some time, until the books are unpacked again.
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But read With Your Crooked Heart next.
I was very happy with A Spell of Winter up until almost the very end.
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Address insent. Do you want to borrow any of the UK ones before I pack them up?
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I rarely read poetry, so the only way I get introduced to a lot of these allusions is to encounter them in other novels (thank you, Maggie's-novel-in-progress, for the Auden). And thank goodness for all those years of church -- at least I get the biblical quotes when I see them.
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