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Quote by Louis-Ferdinand Céline

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Journey to the End of the Night

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Louis-Ferdinand Céline

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“I'm proud of you, Bliss," he said. "Michael's sword released the souls that were trapped in your blood. You freed them. You freed me." "But now I'm never going to see you again, am I?" she asked. Dylan smiled. "It's unlikely. But I never say never.' "I wish you wouldn't go. I'll miss you so much," Bliss said. "I'll miss you too." Dylan put his hand up, and so did Bliss. But this time, instead of touching air, she felt his warm hand grasping her cold one. She looked at Allegra. Somehow, she knew her mother was making this happen. Dylan leaned down, and she could feel his lips, soft and inviting, gently kissing hers. Then Dylan was gone. But Bliss did not feel anguished. She felt at peace. Dylan was not broken and incomplete anymore. He was whole.”

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“I had never wondered where he slept, but now I half expected a dark cavern with a bloodied altar for a bed. Instead it was a crimson mirror of my room: red-and-black tapestries instead of pale wallpaper; red-and-gold damask bed curtains instead of lace; and supporting the canopy were not caryatids but eagles, cast from a slick black metal that glittered in the candlelight. All around the edges of the room burned row upon row of candles, casting golden light in every direction so that shadow barely existed.”

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“I lie splayed out on the bed, staring numbly at the world's most beautiful bedroom. I've been given the Duchess Suite, a relic from the days when husbands and wives slept in separate rooms. The bedroom's damask walls are painted robin's-egg blue, the same shade as Tiffany's famous little boxes, with matching curtains framing the French windows. The ceiling above my bed is gilded in a mosaic pattern, and impressionist paintings grace the walls. Delicate white-and-gold furniture softens the room's edges, and the freshly cut peonies in a vase on my bedside table lend the air a sweet smell.”

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“The space was sprawling, marked by a platform king bed in the center, canopied with gossamer curtains. The entire outside wall was glass, looking out into a landscaped garden exploding with flowers, birds, and butterflies. A small stream sang through the garden, rippling over stones. Feyi walked over to the bed and ran her hands over the flax linen sheets, her fingernails golden against the olive green.”

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