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"Even though it was six o'clock, there was no sense of approaching dawn."
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"At the same time all the houses round about promptly took part in this silence, and so did the darkness above them, reaching as far as the stars. And the footsteps of invisible passers-by, whose course I had no wish to guess at, the wind that kept on driving against the other side of the street, the gramophone singing behind closed windows in some room - they made themselves heard in this silence, as if they had owned it for ever and ever."
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"Dark nights are unpleasant," "Yes, for strangers to travel,""The clouds are heavy.""Yes, a storm is approaching."
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"The house, and all the objects in it, crackled with static electricity; undertows washed through it, the air was heavy with things that were known but not spoken. Like a hollow log, a drum, a church, it was amplified, so that conversations whispered in it sixty years ago can be half-heard today."
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"It was a small room with dim light coming in the window, reminiscent of old Polish films."
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"The daemon wind died down, and the bloated, fungoid moon sank reddeningly in the west."
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"The smog curled between the streetlamps and the spokes of the wrought iron framework. It seemed through your body and into your bones."
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"Wendy's house, unlike many in Cape Breton, had three floors, along with a basement and attic. Aside from Wendy's bedroom, there was a laundry room. The dirty water in the sink would rush from the washer hose, bubbling up, threatening to overflow, but it never did. Next-door was a motel with a neon sign that read in turquoise and pink, "We have the best rates in town!, but the 'E' in 'rates' kept flickering on and off day and night so that every few seconds it would switch to, "We have the best rats in town!"
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"A few fires flickered, plumes of dark smoke marring the ruby sky."
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"Sleepiness seemed to be creeping out of the ground and up their legs, and falling softly out of the air upon theirheads and eyes."
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"The sky was like ebony and the only illumination was the harsh white light of the central streetlamp, which cast shadows so hard it seemed you might cut yourself on them."
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"The truth is I hate cocktail parties when the only person I know is my supposed date, and he abandons me the minute we come in the door."
Truth
"The first four months of writing the book, my mental image is scratching with my hands through granite. My other image is pushing a train up the mountain, and it's icy, and I'm in bare feet."
Writing
"If you want to be happy for life, love what you do."
Love
"Even though it was six o'clock, there was no sense of approaching dawn."
Atmosphere
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