quotables / the shipping news

"he held out his arms. no mistaking what he meant. transfixed, she hardly breathed. one flicker of movement, and he'd be all over her, pulling her clothes up, wrenching the brown stockings and pressing her down on the stones with the shore flies crawling on bare skin, quoyle, entering her, ramming his great chin into the side of her neck. and afterwards some silent agreement, some sore complicity, betrayal. she burst out. ... 'do you know how he died? my husband? I'll tell you. he's in the sea. he's down at the bottom. I never come beside the sea without thinking - 'herold's there.'' ... she slid down the rock, safe now, protected by grief. quoyle stood away, hands dangling, looking at her."
(bril. simply.)

"wavey ran to get away, then for the sake of running, and at last because there was nothing else to do. it would look undecided to change her pace, as though she did not know what she wanted. it seemed always that she had to keep on performing pointless acts."
(I want to write like this)

"'all of a sudden, something behind him. a hairy devil jumped down the hole like a hockey puck ... red eyes. says to me father ... 'be back for you ... after I washes me pots and pans.' father ... ran forty miles.' ... 'my wife,' bawled quoyle, 'is dead.' ... 'I know that,' said tert card. 'that's not news.'"
(best drunk dialogues ever)

"'edna says the only reason he didn't get her was because she was under the copy desk looking for paper clips when the shooting started. remember how there was never enough paper clips? quoyle, they shot at mercalia on the freeway last week. show you how crazy the scene is, I made a joke about living in california, about LA style. fucking bullet holes through her windshield. missed her by inches. she's scared to death and I'm making jokes. it hit me after edna called what a fucking miserable crazy place we're in. there's no place you can go no more without getting shot or burned or beat. and I was laughing.' and quoyle thought he heard his friend crying on the other side of the continent. or maybe he was laughing again."
(she covers so. fucking. much. ground in this book)

"he'd call him up that night. tell him. what? that he could gut a cod while he talked about advertising space and printing costs? that he was wondering if love came in other colors than the basic black of none and the red heat of obsession?"
(colors. she's very colorful.)