A precious liquid, a poison dearer than that of the Borgias — because it is made from our blood, our health, our sleep, and two-thirds of our love — we must be stingy with it. – Charles Baudelaire, “Advice to Young Writers,” 1867

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It was as if she lived only on clear, salty air, and when the day came for her to pass away, she would probably do exactly that. Just take a step to one side. Dissolve into a north-westerly wind as it whirled around the lighthouse at North Point, then out across the sea. – John Ajvide Lindqvist, Harbor, 2008, translated from the Swedish by Marlaine Del
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