Nightmare
I keep a record of the wreckage in my life
I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind
They talk shit, but I love it every time
My mind wanders down the road to Dellecher, and I wonder, will I recognize it? Maybe they’ve torn the Castle down, razed the trees to make room for real dormitories, and put up a fence to keep kids out of the lake. Maybe now it looks like a children’s summer camp, sterile and safe. Or maybe it, like Filippa, has hardly changed at all. I can still see it, lush and green and wild, in some tiny way enchanted, like Oberon’s wood, or Prospero’s island. There are things they don’t tell you about such magical places—that they’re as dangerous as they are beautiful. Why should Dellecher be any different?
Act 2, PrologueKitabı okudu
Visits of Truth
His own description of the purpose of the Journals is perhaps as revealing as any. He advised scholars to keep a journal and in it to “pay so muh honor to the visits of Truth to your mind as to record them.”
IntroductionKitabı okuyor
"We had given AM sentience. Inadvertently, of course, but sentience nonetheless. But it had been trapped. AM wasn't God, he was a machine. We had created him to think, but there was nothing it could do with that creativity. In rage, in frenzy, the machine had killed the human race, almost all of us, and still it was trapped. AM could not wander, AM could not wonder, AM could not belong. He could merely be. And so, with the innate loathing that all machines had always held for the weak, soft creatures who had built them, he had sought revenge. And in his paranoia, he had decided to reprieve five of us, for a personal, everlasting punishment that would never serve to diminish his hatred… that would merely keep him reminded, amused, proficient at hating man. Immortal, trapped, subject to any torment he could devise for us from the limitless miracles at his command. He would never let us go. We were his belly slaves. We were all he had to do with his forever time. We would be forever with him, with the cavern-filling bulk of the creature machine, with the all-mind soulless world he had become. He was Earth, and we were the fruit of that Earth; and though he had eaten us, he would never digest us. We could not die. We had tried it. We had attempted suicide, oh one or two of us had. But AM had stopped us. I suppose we had wanted to be stopped. Don't ask why. I never did. More than a million times a day. Perhaps once we might be able to sneak a death past him. Immortal, yes, but not indestructible."
I Have No Mouth & I Must ScreamKitabı okudu
line of the greenest
neither that drop of hate, leftover
nor the causes remain sober
lost the black hands of the clock
asking your story to be locked
choice is yours; ocean or hell ?
they cannot read its eyes well
still in God's mind... dreadful fate
you may either purchase or sell
still in Demon's heart, the greenest lake
choice is yours; sooth or fake ?
bloody play took over an invisible stage
nothing can be done against blinding ink,
burying your story to keep it alive
too dead to change the fate of your juvenile
a complex rage creeping before my eyes
you're exhaling my cyanide, that greenest light..
“Keep in mind that when your mother fled from the Shadow World, it wasn’t the monsters she was hiding from. Not the warlocks, the wolf-men, the Fair Folk, not even the demons themselves. It was them. It was the Shadowhunters.”
I still haven't told him about the disgraceful night with Roy Fedgewick, but I think I might at some point. It's the kind of secret that ends up festering in your mind if you keep it. I don't feel guilty about that, the guilt belongs to the rapist, but I am embarassed.
Roy Fedgewick'le yaşadığım utanç verici geceden hala ona bahsetmedim ama sanırım bir noktada anlatabilirim. Bu, eğer saklarsan, sonunda zihninde iltihap oluşturacak türden bir sır. Bu konuda kendimi suçlu hissetmiyorum, suç tecavüzcüye ait ama utanıyorum.
Sayfa 161Kitabı okudu
Little or no eye contact is not indicative of deception (Vrij, 2003, 38-39). This is rubbish for reasons discussed in the previous chapter. Keep in mind that predators and habitual liars actually engage in greater eye contact than most individuals, and will lock eyes with you. Research clearly shows that Machiavellian people (for example, psychopaths, conmen, and habitual liars) will actually increase eye contact during deception (Ekman, 1991, 141-142). Perhaps this increase in eye contact is consciously employed by such individuals because it is so commonly (but erroneously) believed that looking someone straight in the eye is a sign of truthfulness.
The old adage “Keep your chin up” is a remark directed at someone who is in the doldrums or experiencing misfortune (...). This bit of folk wisdom accurately reflects our limbic response to adversity. A person with his chin down is seen as lacking confidence and experiencing negative sentiments while a person with his chin up is perceived as being in a positive frame of mind.
What is true with the chin is also true for the nose. A nose-up gravity-defying gesture is a high confidence nonverbal tell, while a nose-down position is a display of low confidence. When people are stressed or upset, the chin (and nose, since it must follow along) tends not to be held high. Tucking the chin is a form of withdrawal or distancing and can be very accurate in discerning true negative sentiment.
Guns N' Roses - November Rain
When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same?
Nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain, ooh yeah
Love