Kate Racculia Quotes

The point is that it might open a part of you that's always been closed. The point is you might make yourself heard. You might find you have a beautiful and terrible - you have a power... We make music to - to find each other in the dark. And I have to believe the point is that we don't - we don't ever stop calling out.

This is why. This is _why_. This is why he plays, why he loves, why he listens. It isn't even a high--a high is too low--it is synchronicity with the universe. Physical proof of the three-part harmony between body and soul and song, all three living, dying, resonating.

There is only ever one afternoon, and it ends. But one afternoon can hold so much beauty and so much love.

Because my heart is running the show today.

They're ghosts, surely, and Rabbit absolutely believes in them. There are things in the world, strange machinations of physics and chemistry,queer intersections of biology and theology, that Rabbit hasn't the slightest interest in assuming he'll ever understand or be able to solve. They're simply there to be believed in, and Rabbit is a born believer. He wants to believe. He has always thought of life as pregnant with possibility-- a freak twister or wardrobe the only thing separating him from another world-- so ghosts, spirits, aliens and supreme beings coexist within Rabbit with ease. There's a kind of beauty in accepting the possibility, if not the plausibility, of everything imaginable.

How many people has this hotel eaten?

In his earliest memories he was sitting on the floor in the family room, in front of the giant stereo his parents had bought themselves as a wedding present, his face pressed into the padded fabric of one speaker. The fabric was prickly against his forehead but his nose fit perfectly into a little groove, and he could feel music spilling like molten gold through his entire body. He'd sit back on his heels when the song was over and his father, an accountant and amateur drummer whose (still-unrealized) dream was to open a jazz club and coffee house, would say, "Order up!" and put another record on the turntable. Rabbit's favorite albums were by Earth, Wind & Fire (syncopation made his brain feel like it was laughing) and Also sprach Zarathustra, its opening rumbling like an earthquake. And he loved The White Album, and when his mother played ABBA on the piano and they'd sing together (though Alice couldn't do it without being a total showoff), and the Star Wars soundtrack, and of _course_ Zeppelin. For six months in 1984, he had asked his parents to play "Stairway to Heaven" instead of a bedtime story.

Though maybe that's all life ever is. Unimaginable, until it's happening to you.

Maybe that's what he reminds her of: they are both full of dark corners, odd places, possibly ghosts.

Alice wonders if anyone has ever tended Jill, in any way, and if her intelligent ferocity is what happens when a girl has had to teach herself how to be human.