The Hours by Michael Cunningham

I read The Hours by Michael Cunningham back in November, and fell in love with it. At the time I wrote a little facebook note containing my favourite quotes, i've just reread that now and though i would duplicate them here too:

There’s a little scene where Virginia’s niece builds a little funeral bed for a dead thrush and it’s so sublime I almost wet myself.

“Virginia looks with unanticipated pleasure at this modest circlet of thorns and flowers; this wild deathbed. She would like to lie down on it herself.”

“It could be a kind of hat. It could be the missing link between millinery and death.”

“…while she, Virginia, a bird-sized Virginia, lets herself metamorphose from an angular, difficult woman into an ornament on a hat; a foolish, uncaring thing.”



about laura brown's son (pretty much sums up a mother-son relationship for me):

"He knowns. He must know. The little boy can tell she's been somewhere illicit; he can tell she's lying. He watches her constantly, spends almost every waking hour in her presence [...] He is devoted, entirely, to the observation and deciphering of her, because without her there is no world at all."

sigh :o)