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ce407e3
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"Augustus, perhaps you'd like to share your fears with the group." "My fears?" "Yes." "I fear oblivion," he said without a moment's pause. "I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark." "Too soon," Isaac said, cracking a smile. "Was that insensitive?" Augustus asked. "I can be pretty blind to other people's feelings."
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isaac
hazel-grace
blind
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John Green |
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3581121
|
"Augustus: "I can still dominate your blind ass at Counterinsurgence," Isaac: "I'm pretty sure all asses are blind,"
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isaac
the-fault-in-our-stars
blind
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John Green |
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d5a47d9
|
You could hold me and I could hold you. And it would be so peaceful. Completely peaceful. Like the feeling of sleep, but awake in it together.
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romantic
isaac
will-grayson
togetherness
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John Green |
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c2d77f7
|
"That was your forest. Where you hunted." He came closer to the painting, gazing at the bleak, empty cold, the white and gray and brown and black. "This was your life," he clarified. I was too mortified, too stunned, to reply. He walked to the next painting I'd left against the wall. Darkness and dense brown, flickers of ruby red and orange squeezing out between them. "Your cottage at night." I tried to move, to tell him to stop looking at those ones and look at the others I'd laid out, but I couldn't--couldn't even breathe properly as he moved to the next painting. A tanned, sturdy male hand fisted in the hay, the pale pieces of it entwined among strands of brown coated with gold--my hair. My gut twisted. "The man you used to see--in your village." He cocked his head again as he studied the picture, and a low growl slipped out. "While you made love." He stepped back, looking at the row of pictures. "This is the only one with any brightness." Was that ... jealousy? "It was the only escape I had." Truth. I wouldn't apologize for Isaac. Not when Tamlin had just been in the Great Rite. I didn't hold that against him--but if he was going to be jealous of Isaac-- Tamlin must have realized it, too, for he loosed a long, controlled breath before moving to the next painting. Tall shadows of men, bright red dripping off their fists, off their wooden clubs, hovering and filling the edges of the painting as they towered over the curled figure on the floor, the blood leaking from him, the leg at a wrong angle. Tamlin swore. "You were there when they wrecked your father's leg." "Someone had to beg them to stop." Tamlin threw a too-knowing glance in my direction and turned to look at the rest of the paintings. There they were, all the wounds I'd slowly been leeching these few months. I blinked. A few months. Did my family believe that I would be forever away with this so-called dying aunt? At last, Tamlin looked at the painting of the glen and the starlight. He nodded in appreciation. But he pointed to the painting of the snow-veiled woods. "That one. I want that one."
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tamlin
paintings
jealous
isaac
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Sarah J. Maas |
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6f09ad0
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Some readers may realize that this story, first published in 1956, has been overtaken by events. In 1965, astronomers discovered that Mercury does not keep one side always to the Sun, but has a period of rotation of about fifty-four days, so that all parts of it are exposed to the sunlight at one time or another. Well, what can I do except say that I wish astronomers would get things right to begin with? And I certainly refuse to change the story to suit their whims.
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the-dying-night
asimov
isaac-asimov
isaac
science-fiction
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Isaac Asimov |