Despair

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Sketch for a Theory of the Emotions (1939)

  Clearly to understand the emotional process as it proceeds from consciousness, we must remember the dual nature of the body, which on the one hand is an object in the world and on the other is immediately lived by the consciousness. Only then can we grasp what is essential — that emotion is a phenomenon of belief. Consciousness does not limit itself to the projection of affective meanings upon the world around it; it lives the new world it has thereby constituted — lives it directly, commits itself to it, and suffers from the qualities that the concomitant behaviour has outlined. This means that, all ways out being barred, the consciousness leaps into the magical world of emotion, plunges wholly into it by debasing itself. It becomes a different consciousness confronting a different world — a world which it constitutes with its own most intimate quality, with that presence to itself, utterly non-distant, of its point of view upon the world. A consciousness becoming emotional is rather like a consciousness dropping asleep. The one, like the other, slips into another world and transforms the body as a synthetic whole so as to be able to live and to perceive this other world through it. In other words, the consciousness changes its body, or, to put it another way, the body — considered as the point of view upon the universe immediately inherent in consciousness — is raised to the level of the behaviour. That is why the physiological manifestations are, at bottom, disorders of the most ordinary description; they resemble those of fever, of angina pectoris, of artificial over-excitation etc. They merely represent a complete and commonplace upset of the body, such as it is (the behaviour alone will decide whether this disarray is to be a 'diminishment' of life or an 'amplification' of it). In itself it is nothing, it represents no more than an obscuration of the conscious point of view upon the world, in so far as the consciousness realizes and spontaneously lives this obscuration. It is advisable, naturally to understand this obscuration as a synthetic phenomenon, as indivisible. But since, on the other hand, the body is a thing among things, a scientific analysis may be able to distinguish, in the biological body, in the body as a thing, the local disorder of this or that organ. Thus the origin of emotion is a spontaneous debasement lived by consciousness in face of the world. What it is unable to endure in one way it tries to seize in another way, by going to sleep, by reducing itself to the states of consciousness in sleep, dream or hysteria. And the bodily disturbance is nothing else than the belief lived by the consciousness, as it is seen from outside. Only, it must be noted:

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  Joshua 7 Israel Is Defeated at Ai 1 B UT THE sons of Israel acted unfaithfully and violated their obligation in regard to the things [off limits] under the ban [those things belonging to the LORD ], for Achan, the son of Carmi, the son of Zabdi, the son of Zerah, from the tribe of Judah, took some of the things under the ban [for personal gain]. Therefore the anger of the LORD burned against the Israelites. 2 Now Joshua sent men from Jericho to Ai, which is near Beth-aven, east of Bethel, and said to them, “Go up and spy out the land.” So the men went up and spied out Ai. 3 Then they returned to Joshua and said to him, “Do not make all the people go up [to fight]; have only about two thousand or three thousand men go up and attack Ai; do not make the entire army go up there, for they [of Ai] are few.” 4 So about three thousand men from the sons of Israel went up there, but they fled [in retreat] from the men of Ai. 5 The men of Ai killed about thirty-six of Israel’s men, and chased them from the gate as far as [the bluffs of] Shebarim and struck them down as they descended [the steep pass], so the hearts of the people melted [in despair and began to doubt God’s promise] and became like water (disheartened). 6 Then Joshua tore his clothes and fell face downward on the ground before the ark of the LORD until evening, he and the elders of Israel; and [with great sorrow] they put dust on their heads. 7 Joshua said, “Alas, O Lord a GOD , why have You brought this people across the Jordan at all, only to hand us over to the Amorites, to destroy us? If only we had been willing to live beyond the Jordan! 8 “O Lord, what can I say now that [the army of] Israel has turned back [in retreat and fled] before their enemies? 9 “For the Canaanites and all the inhabitants of the land will hear about it, and will surround us and cut off our name from the earth. And what will You do for Your great name [to keep it from dishonor]?” 10 So the LORD said to Joshua, “Get up! Why is it that you have fallen on your face? 11 “Israel has sinned; they have also transgressed My covenant which I commanded them [to keep]. They have even taken some of the things under the ban, and they have both stolen and b denied [the theft]. Moreover, they have also put the stolen objects among their own things. 12 “That is why the c soldiers of Israel could not stand [and defend themselves] before their enemies; they turned their backs [and ran] before them, because they have become accursed. I will not be with you anymore unless you destroy the things under the ban from among you.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  We’re living in a time of great evil. Rivers of blood, replenished with children’s bodies, are flooding this nation, and we’ve let the blood spill. If we are lukewarm, the Lord has said, He will spit us out of His mouth. I’ll ask you what I’ve asked myself, late at night, as I wait upon His Spirit: if the likes of you and I won’t be radical for God, who will? While he talked, his voice had risen. He finished with a shout, then he fell silent. The crowd around us was hushed, listening. Raising his head, he asked if he could get an amen. Several people replied; he asked again. This time, the amens belled toward him. I felt my ears ring. Yes, Lord, he said. Oh, Lord, I beg, be here with us. He called out the opening line of a hymn, one I recognized, and the crowd sang it back to him. Phoebe joined in, hands folded. She rocked back and forth, eyes closed, and I thought of the night we’d met, how she’d danced until she gasped for breath, holding the thick hair in a ponytail. It was damp at the tips. Sweat trickled down her slim throat. Phoebe’s rolling hips parodied that night; so, too, the rapt, upheld face. She’d told me, as she apologized, that he’d asked how I was doing with Jejah. He’d spoken with love, she said, and she’d responded in kind, without thinking. I’m not upset with you, I said. I wasn’t: she didn’t have to apologize. I felt a long confusion lifting. If anything, I should be grateful. For some time, I’d also failed to think. The crowd kept singing. I watched, alone. It was a horde, and they all had what I lacked. In what He’s credited to have said, the Lord is explicit. He insists on full, absolute devotion, nothing less. John Leal had that part right. But from the start, I’d obeyed His call. I’d pledged my life to Him, if to no avail, which left me believing God had to be nothing, a fiction; that, or He didn’t want me. Fifteen minutes, a man said. The crowd shifted forward. I put a hand in my pocket, and I felt a twist of plastic wrap I’d forgotten bringing. It was a small bundle of prescribed sedatives, pills I’d grabbed at the last minute because Phoebe and I planned to stay in the city that night. I had enough trouble sleeping that I relied on these pills, the bottle’s festive castanet rattle a promise, preludial to rest. Though I hadn’t tried taking them except at night, before I went to bed, the pills also tranquilized. I could use a little extra calm, I thought. I opened the cellophane. To rush the effect, I chewed the pills. – The march began. We’d been asked to walk in silence.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  Tommy Dukes roared with laughter. "You angel boy! If only I had! If only I had! No; my heart's as numb as a potato, my penis droops and never lifts its head up, I dare rather cut him clean off than say 'shit!' in front of my mother or my aunt ... they are real ladies, mind you; and I'm not really intelligent, I'm only a 'mental-lifer.' It would be wonderful to be intelligent: then one would be alive in all the parts mentioned and unmentionable. The penis rouses his head and says: How do you do?--to any really intelligent person. Renoir said he painted his pictures with his penis ... he did too, lovely pictures! I wish I did something with mine. God! when one can only talk! Another torture added to Hades! And Socrates started it." "There are nice women in the world," said Connie, lifting her head up and speaking at last. The men resented it ... she should have pretended to hear nothing. They hated her admitting she had attended so closely to such talk. "My God!--'_If they be not nice to me What care I how nice they be?_'-- "No, it's hopeless! I just simply can't vibrate in unison with a woman. There's no woman I can really want when I'm faced with her, and I'm not going to start forcing myself to it.... My God, no! I'll remain as I am, and lead the mental life. It's the only honest thing I can do. I can be quite happy _talking_ to women; but it's all pure, hopelessly pure. Hopelessly pure! What do you say, Hildebrand, my chicken?" "It's much less complicated if one stays pure," said Berry. "Yes, life is all too simple!" CHAPTER V On a frosty morning with a little February sun, Clifford and Connie went for a walk across the park to the wood. That is, Clifford chuffed in his motor-chair, and Connie walked beside him. The hard air was still sulphureous, but they were both used to it. Round the near horizon went the haze, opalescent with frost and smoke, and on the top lay the small blue sky; so that it was like being inside an enclosure, always inside. Life always a dream or a frenzy, inside an enclosure. The sheep coughed in the rough, sere grass of the park, where frost lay bluish in the sockets of the tufts. Across the park ran a path to the woodgate, a fine ribbon of pink. Clifford had had it newly gravelled with sifted gravel from the pit-bank. When the rock and refuse of the underworld had burned and given off its sulphur, it turned bright pink, shrimp-coloured on dry days, darker, crab-coloured on wet. Now it was pale shrimp-colour, with a bluish-white hoar of frost. It always pleased Connie, this underfoot of sifted, bright pink. It's an ill-wind that brings nobody good.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  What while Giannotto and Spina abode in this doleful case and had therein already abidden a year's space, unremembered of Currado, it came to pass that King Pedro of Arragon, by the procurement of Messer Gian di Procida, raised the island of Sicily against King Charles and took it from him, whereat Currado, being a Ghibelline,[108] rejoiced exceedingly, Giannotto, hearing of this from one of those who had him in guard, heaved a great sigh and said, 'Ah, woe is me! These fourteen years have I gone ranging beggarlike about the world, looking for nought other than this, which, now that it is come, so I may never again hope for weal, hath found me in a prison whence I have no hope ever to come forth, save dead.' 'How so?' asked the gaoler. 'What doth that concern thee which great kings do to one another? What hast thou to do in Sicily?' Quoth Giannotto, 'My heart is like to burst when I remember me of that which my father erst had to do there, whom, albeit I was but a little child, when I fled thence, yet do I mind me to have been lord thereof, in the lifetime of King Manfred.' 'And who was thy father?' asked the gaoler. 'My father's name,' answered Giannotto, 'I may now safely make known, since I find myself in the peril whereof I was in fear, an I discovered it. He was and is yet, an he live, called Arrighetto Capece, and my name is, not Giannotto, but Giusfredi, and I doubt not a jot, an I were quit of this prison, but I might yet, by returning to Sicily, have very high place there.' [Footnote 108: The Ghibellines were the supporters of the Papal faction against the Guelphs or adherents of the Emperor Frederick II. of Germany. The cardinal struggle between the two factions took place over the succession to the throne of Naples and Sicily, to which the Pope appointed Charles of Anjou, who overcame and killed the reigning sovereign Manfred, but was himself, through the machinations of the Ghibellines, expelled from Sicily by the celebrated popular rising known as the Sicilian Vespers.]

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  13 “For now I would have lain down and been quiet; I would have slept then, I would have been at rest [in death], 14 With kings and counselors of the earth, Who built up [now desolate] ruins for themselves; 15 Or with princes who had gold, Who filled their houses with silver. 16 “Or like a miscarriage which is hidden and put away, I would not exist, Like infants who never saw light. 17 “There [in death] the wicked cease from raging, And there the weary are at rest. 18 “There the prisoners rest together; They do not hear the taskmaster’s voice. 19 “The small and the great are there, And the servant is free from his master. [Jer 20:14–18 ] 20 “Why is the light given to him who is in misery, And life to the bitter in soul, 21 Who wait for death, but it does not come, And dig (search) for death more [diligently] than for hidden treasures, 22 Who rejoice exceedingly, And rejoice when they find the grave? 23 “Why is the light of day given to a man whose way is hidden, And whom God has hedged in? 24 “For my groaning comes at the sight of my food, And my cries [of despair] are poured out like water. 25 “For the thing which I greatly fear comes upon me, And that of which I am afraid has come upon me. 26 “I am not at ease, nor am I quiet, And I am not at rest, and yet trouble still comes [upon me].” Job 4 Eliphaz: Innocent Do Not Suffer 1 T HEN ELIPHAZ the Temanite answered and said, 2 “If we dare to converse with you, will you be impatient [or offended]? But who can restrain himself from speaking? 3 “Behold, you have admonished and instructed many, And you have strengthened weak hands. 4 “Your words have helped the one who was stumbling to stand, And you have strengthened feeble knees. 5 “But now a adversity comes upon you, and you are impatient and intolerant; It touches you, and you are horrified. 6 “Is not your fear of God your confidence, And [is not] the integrity and uprightness of your ways your hope? 7 “Remember now, who, being innocent, ever perished? Or where [and in what circumstances] were those upright and in right standing with God destroyed? 8 “As I have seen, those who plow wickedness And those who sow trouble and harm harvest it. 9 “By the breath of God they perish, And by the blast of His anger they are consumed. 10 “The roaring of the lion and the voice of the fierce lion, And the teeth of the young lions are broken. 11 “The lion perishes for lack of prey, And the cubs of the lioness are scattered. 12 “Now a word was secretly brought to me, And my ear received a whisper of it.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "Yes! I feel really frightened." "Ay!" He got up, and put her shoes to dry, and wiped his own and set them near the fire. In the morning he would grease them. He poked the ash of pasteboard as much as possible out of the fire. "Even burnt, it's filthy," he said. Then he brought sticks and put them on the hob for the morning. Then he went out a while with the dog. When he came back, Connie said: "I want to go out too, for a minute." She went alone into the darkness. There were stars overhead. She could smell flowers on the night air. And she could feel her wet shoes getting wetter again. But she felt like going away, right away from him and everybody. It was chilly. She shuddered, and returned to the house. He was sitting in front of the low fire. "Ugh! Cold!" she shuddered. He put the sticks on the fire, and fetched more, till they had a good crackling chimneyful of blaze. The rippling running yellow flame made them both happy, warmed their faces and their souls. "Never mind!" she said, taking his hand as he sat silent and remote. "One does one's best." "Ay!"--He sighed, with a twist of a smile. She slipped over to him, and into his arms, as he sat there before the fire. "Forget then!" she whispered. "Forget!" He held her close, in the running warmth of the fire. The flame itself was like a forgetting. And her soft, warm, ripe weight! Slowly his blood turned, and began to ebb back into strength and reckless vigour again. "And perhaps the women _really_ wanted to be there and love you properly, only perhaps they couldn't. Perhaps it wasn't all their fault," she said. "I know it. Do you think I don't know what a broken-backed snake that's been trodden on I was myself!" She clung to him suddenly. She had not wanted to start all this again. Yet some perversity had made her. "But you're not now," she said. "You're not that now: a broken-backed snake that's been trodden on." "I don't know what I am. There's black days ahead." "No!" she protested, clinging to him. "Why? Why?" "There's black days coming for us all and for everybody," he repeated with a prophetic gloom. "No! You're not to say it!" He was silent. But she could feel the black void of despair inside him. That was the death of all desire, the death of all love: this despair that was like the dark cave inside the men, in which their spirit was lost. "And you talk so coldly about sex," she said. "You talk as if you had only wanted your own pleasure and satisfaction." She was protesting nervously against him.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  That night, they might have driven upstate; exhausted, they slept well. It wasn’t until the next morning that they’d have jumped from bed, running to the television. Where’s the— I have it. There! Stop! While they watched, they fell quiet. What girls? It’s Phipps. Phoebe then hid with them in the cabin. If Jo’s right, if, she lived with the added guilt of having proposed the idea. But no, in fact, the more I’ve thought about it, Phoebe wouldn’t have disputed John Leal’s approach to the clinic, not in front of his group. She valued tact. If she wanted to question him, she could have pulled him aside, in private. Docile so long, she’d have been more pliant, not less. No. He told Phoebe to bring up the idea to Jejah. With his impresario’s instincts, he staged God’s approval of his plan. She followed his script, but she didn’t like lying. In time, she doubted his use of tricks, what such deceit implied. It was why she looked at the camera. In defiance. No one else was so rash. It was Phoebe’s last, deliberate tie, to preclude turning back. I believe, Lord, help Thou mine unbelief: the skeptic’s usual plea. He’d have tried to console them. Several deaths, he said, versus the thousands killed before 5:00 each night, and that’s just here, in this one failing nation. God’s will. Spilt milk. She strained to accept his logic, but she wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking of the five girls, the juvenile bodies blown free of an explosion, floating in pieces to the shingled cabin. Handprints glinting on bathroom glass, a hint of charred flesh: flickering at the edge of sight, these hostile children filled Phoebe’s dreams. When she learned she was the principal suspect, Phoebe might have been relieved. It was an excuse to leave; it would help the group if she could be apart from them. She left without telling anyone, driving south. Still upstate, she paused to post the note to me. If it’s true, as has been reported, that the others have since slipped through Montreal, then Jejah long ago obtained false passports for everyone, including Phoebe. They had the funds. She kept driving: into Mexico, perhaps. From there, in disguise, she might have taken a plane. She could be anywhere. I’d last heard from Fitz a week ago, before I decided to go to L.A. In the news, I’d been identified as Phoebe Lin’s old boyfriend; since then, I had reporters calling, along with patriots who wished me dead, in jail. Shot. Praised. So, when a restricted number flashed on my phone, I put it down. It rang again. It wasn’t until the fourth call that I answered. It’s Agent Fitz, she said. I’m hanging up. You don’t want to do that. I have news for you. I was in Norton Hall, going to class. Swerving left, I went into a single-person bathroom.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  Connie went slowly home to Wragby. "Home!" ... it was a warm word to use for that great, weary warren. But then it was a word that had had its day. It was somehow cancelled. All the great words, it seemed to Connie, were cancelled for her generation: love, joy, happiness, home, mother, father, husband, all these great, dynamic words were half dead now, and dying from day to day. Home was a place you lived in, love was a thing you didn't fool yourself about, joy was a word you applied to a good Charleston, happiness was a term of hypocrisy used to bluff other people, a father was an individual who enjoyed his own existence, a husband was a man you lived with and kept going in spirits. As for sex, the last of the great words, it was just a cocktail term for an excitement that bucked you up for a while, then left you more raggy than ever. Frayed! It was as if the very material you were made of was cheap stuff, and was fraying out to nothing. All that really remained was a stubborn stoicism: and in that there was a certain pleasure. In the very experience of the nothingness of life, phase after phase, _étape_ after _étape_, there was a certain grisly satisfaction. So that's _that_! Always this was the last utterance: home, love, marriage, Michaelis: So that's _that_!--And when one died, the last words to life would be: So that's _that_!-- Money? Perhaps one couldn't say the same there. Money one always wanted. Money, success, the bitch-goddess, as Tommy Dukes persisted in calling it, after Henry James, that was a permanent necessity. You couldn't spend your last sou, and say finally: So that's _that_!--No, if you lived even another ten minutes, you wanted a few more sous for something or other. Just to keep the business mechanically going, you needed money. You had to have it. Money you _have_ to have. You needn't really have anything else. So that's _that_!-- Since, of course, it's not your own fault you are alive. Once you are alive, money is a necessity, and the only absolute necessity. All the rest you can get along without, at a pinch. But not money. Emphatically, that's _that_!-- She thought of Michaelis, and the money she might have had with him; and even that she didn't want. She preferred the lesser amount which she helped Clifford to make by his writing. That she actually helped to make.--"Clifford and I together, we make twelve hundred a year out of writing;" so she put it to herself. Make money! Make it! Out of nowhere! Wring it out of the thin air! The last feat to be humanly proud of! The rest all-my-eye-Betty-Martin.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  Of course, you’re not, she said. I had to realize what she had lived through. She’d just finished college in Seoul, at the top of the class, when she allowed herself to be trapped. First, she said yes to a proposal. She followed the tradition of moving into a husband’s parents’ house. His relatives bullied the young bride. On dates, he’d been pliant, docile; in this alien house, she was criticized all day long. It was like being a servant, but with less privilege. Maids get paid. By the time she gave birth, she’d had enough. She left with the child. In months, he trailed them to L.A. He pled, full of apologies, but she’d found a job. It paid so well, they’d given up needing him. She toiled, piled cash. It was all for infant Haejin, a girl who’d get the outsize life she’d been denied. But I’ve heard this, I said. No, she said. I hadn’t, not if I believed I could quit. Since I wished to be a pianist, I should make it happen. What I wanted, I’d have. I was the one who’d requested a piano. It had been my idea. I had a gift, she said. It was also an obligation. I’d be lost without the music. – I pulled all the applications to conservatories; accepted at Edwards, I said I would go. But the school also has a piano program, she said. It’s why you applied in the first place. Haejin, they’ll let you in. We hadn’t been in the habit of arguing, but now we couldn’t stop. The fight lasted until April, the night of a cello recital. Though I hadn’t listened to music since Libich, we’d had the tickets since the previous fall. It wasn’t the piano. I’ll be fine, I thought, but then string music filled the hall. I’d have given anything to be able to perform as well as I’d hoped I could. It was true, as she said, that I’d started playing the music on my own. I was so small, at first, that I had to sit on a trunk balanced on top of the piano bench. It lifted me up. Disembodied in the piano’s polished depths, I hurled back and forth like its possessing spirit, shown large, powerful. I’d loved the piano. I still did. It was too bad. I wiped my face; she noticed. She held out a tissue, but I ignored it. I couldn’t admit I’d cried. The cello recital ended. In the parking lot, I insisted I’d drive. I had a license, but she didn’t often let me behind the wheel; this time, she gave in. Maybe she pitied me. She’d tired of fighting. I didn’t ask, and it was the last time we talked. In silence, I drove. I got us a mile from home before I started crying again. Half-blind, I rolled into the opposing lane.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  In bars, I left full drinks unattended. Then, I gulped them down. If I failed to be careful, she might notice. She’d have to come back. One night, I put on the shortest dress I owned, and then I sat on a low wall on the edge of campus, legs dangling. Red lights spotted the intersection. I watched the crowd pass, thinking, Pick me up, until someone did. He didn’t have protection. It’s fine, I said. Go ahead. Downtown, in a split-level dive called Levi’s, I fell into conversation with Greg, a local, a high-school dropout in his thirties. I’d first met him because he sold Julian drugs. I went home with Greg, then I let him tie me to his bed. He fucked me through a hole he razored open in my tights. I shared a bottle of gin with him; I felt light-headed, ill, until I woke in a hospital bed. I was brought in throwing up, a nurse explained. No, I’d come in an ambulance. I had a little too much alcohol, but I’d be all right. The hospital had given me fluids. Hush, doll, she said. You’ll be fine. It was late, almost morning. I left the bed when a man behind the partition began yelling. I was still in the previous night’s clothes, though with ankle-length hospital socks covering my feet. Torn tights chafed my crotch. I walked the half-mile home, the sidewalk cold through thin fabric. Mica specks, like felled stars, prickled the stone. But most of it was filth. I avoided broken glass, ripped foil bags. Slicks of fresh dog shit. I picked each step through trash. The sun was rising. I hadn’t been allowed outside, when I was a child, without putting on sun lotion. My mother’s light, cool hands patted protective liquid on my face. She fastened a wide-brim hat beneath my chin, tying the ribbons in a firm knot, loops aligned. Such pains she’d taken, for the little I’d since become. 10. WILL I stayed the night with Phoebe. In the morning, I watched as she slept, netted in white sheets. Nostrils flared with each long inhale. Pearl studs glinted at slim earlobes. Minute, fish-scale veins patterned Phoebe’s eyelids in faint blue. The birthmark speckling a left clavicle, slight indents at both temples—from the start, I wanted Phoebe memorized. In the old-gold light of morning, I had the idea she might have been a wild sea-creature who’d washed onshore, luck’s gift, legs tucked like a mermaid’s tail. I learned to swim before I could walk, she’d said. But I was so involved with the piano, I went three years without using my own pool. It was still early, not quite six. I waited as long as I could; at last, I tried shaking Phoebe awake, but she rolled toward the wall. – I left Platt Hall as a drunk slouched past, the label on his bottle dissolving.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  I woke the next morning on the bathroom mat. She’d left the apartment. I went outside, too. I walked until it was night; I called her, leaving messages, apologies I couldn’t finish. What you crying about, pal, a man said, panhandling. Take this soda bottle, drink it all up like Lou Reed, baby. He rattled his plastic cup, and laughed. I knew where she’d be. In three nights, she called back to tell me she’d return home Sunday, at noon, but just to finish moving out. Jejah had a room available. It shouldn’t take long, she said. I’m asking you to stay out of the apartment until I’m done. I don’t want to see you. She hung up. I went out for a walk again. Rain fell, melting winter’s ice. Sidewalks broke, heaved, oozing months-old grit. In this newly liquid world, other natural laws might also prove flexible. Time, I’d learned, was believed to be less sequential than it felt. It could spiral; it frilled. It might well halt. Then, it was the next morning. Night followed, but I still had time. Rivulets sluiced into the gutters, sailing trash, and then it was the Sabbath, almost noon. I waited until past midnight, sitting at the bar at Exhibit, before I returned to the apartment. When I stepped inside, I could tell she’d gone. She’d left the furniture, but bookshelf spaces gaped open. In the closet, stripped hangers clattered. She hadn’t taken the peacock silk wrap I liked, a gift from Julian. It could be a sign: a daedal thread, the implied promise of return. I’d had too much to drink. Stumbling, I went to bed. I opened my eyes, and I’d sprawled in a jut of sunlight, floating in the usual daze of a headache. Not quite conscious, I reached toward Phoebe, and I felt the cold of taut cotton. It was the white sheet, its lip folded on top of the blanket, Phoebe’s side of the bed pulled flat. 29.JOHN LEALHe often prayed, he said, about the old man who leaned on his cane at the clinic exit, eyes lifted. When asked what he was doing, he explained he was counting the souls of slaughtered babies. Rising to the Lord, the old man said. The angel babies rise on high. He was right, John Leal said. I looked up until I saw them, too. Spirits, a long line floating toward the Lord. In each child’s name, praise Him. We’ll devote the revolution to these short lives, and He will, in turn, lift His face upon us.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  Since no one but John Leal had spoken, to date, with God, Phoebe asked if he’d take the question to Him. Jo didn’t think he would: in general, he’d told them what to do, not the reverse. Jo hadn’t learned what happened next. In mid-April, Jo’s parents, Sybil and Elijah Hilt, had realized that, despite the large allowance she received each month, Jo had drawn extra funds from her trust. Disturbed, suspecting drugs, they drove up to school. While questioning Jo, Sybil had noticed whip marks on the girl’s leg. They disregarded all attempts to explain; against Jo’s will, they’d taken her home, to Darien. She cut her wrists, then was hospitalized. John Leal had rented the upstate cabin to use as a spiritual retreat, starting in June, Jo said. They’d all given their savings to Jejah. Phoebe supplied the most—everything she had, as John Leal pointed out. By then, the group comprised six members, including Eric Cho, the newest recruit. Jo had left the cult before they started using the cabin, but if I tried, I could almost see the place in June. Birch branches gleaming white, like picked bones. They lit bonfires until the sweat flowed into tears. The light tinged the circling trees with blood. They fasted, atoned. Tired bodies ached with hope. Through a haze of smoke, stars smeared like souls fleeing this fallen earth. The night chill pricked Phoebe’s bare arms, as if with pinfeathers, and she felt the rush of flight, lifting up. In that isolated place, the plausible might crack open until she had the revelation she desired, a final, ecstatic fit— But no, she wasn’t the kind to have visions, no more than I’d been. I thought of what she’d said that last night, about acting as if she believed. From the start to the finish, Phoebe’s want of Christ had been based in logic. She wished upon God’s attested promises: the dead alive, a past repealed. This flawed world would pass, yielding to a place of undivided light. Since she lacked real belief, she might have resolved to match His pledge with action, proving the faith she craved. Then, in the final instant, she’d have required but a little hope, a short leap of faith. Soldiers require months of training, years, before they’re fit to battle, while all Phoebe had to do was put a truck in a parking lot. Several minutes’ conviction, and the building falls. I wondered when they’d learned how much had gone wrong. In Phoebe’s note, she said she watched Phipps clinic collapse. Truck bombs placed, timers set, the others could have made it back to Noxhurst. They reunited on an Edwards rooftop, then opened the wine bottles. He’d have relished the call to celebrate. The building exploded. If they also noticed the whirling lights, police cars rushing toward the site, they wouldn’t have thought much of it.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  I’ll say this: I hope so. If I can’t imagine you lit with His fire, it’s possible I’m limited, not you. In the apartment, when I left, I discovered the kidskin journal in which you took notes before Jejah confessions, jotting down what you’d tell them, us. It was stashed behind a pile of books, where Fitz and Hugh, of course, had searched. Soft-leathered, tied with a thong strip, it has the look of a journal. Yet they missed it, a bit of grace I can’t explain. I’ve imagined as I could. I compile what I have of you, parts of it firsthand; the rest, inferred. Details accrue, taking on a living shape. I fill in the clues. I recall what John Leal said, how his shining lies persuaded you. I can’t forget what you said, that I hadn’t even tried to understand. Phoebe, I still don’t think He’s real. I believe that we, in the attempt to live, invented Him. But if I could, I’d ask Him to give you everything. – If you did jump, though. I used to preach that God holds us on a lightweight leash that will stretch to span the miles and years. We imagine ourselves free, but with a flick of His wrist He’ll bring us back to Him again. It takes less than I used to think from this hope of reunion that it’s not, from what I can tell, the truth. I think of the hours you spent in that Olympic pool. You’d turned so strong. Muscle-built. The Hudson, at Hoyt Bridge, isn’t wide. It might have been cold, but not past surviving. It would be such an artful ruse, Phoebe, if this is how you’ll elude pursuit: in having pretended to die. – The months flashed past, into a final Edwards term. I found a roommate, Bilal. He slept in the living room, behind a partition. I told Leigh I should stop wasting her time. Though I avoided the clinic site, I noticed an article about plans to build an office plaza. I thought, at times, I heard the distant drills, reveilles beating like a pulse. I wasn’t sleeping much, but I threw out the pills; I tried to drink less, living to prove I’d changed. I graduated, then I moved to Manhattan. I began a job, a full-time position at the previous summer’s hedge fund. One June morning, as I walked to the train station, I saw Julian. I was lost in thought; by the time I recognized him, he’d passed in front of me, his bulk constrained in a light suit, striding in the opposite direction. Julian, I said. I thought I saw him flinch, but he didn’t respond. He’d have kept walking if I hadn’t said it again, taking his arm. Julian, hello, I said, but the face he showed me might have been a stranger’s. He had on glasses. The reflected sunlight hid his eyes.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  [2 Kin 23:31 ] 19 He did evil in the sight of the LORD , in accordance with everything that Jehoiakim had done. 20 Because of the anger of the LORD these things happened in Jerusalem and Judah, and it [finally] came to the point that He cast them from His presence. And Zedekiah rebelled against the king of Babylon. 2 Kings 25 Nebuchadnezzar Besieges Jerusalem 1 N OW IN the ninth year of Zedekiah’s reign, on the tenth day of the tenth month, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came, he with all his army, against Jerusalem, and camped against it and built siege works surrounding it. 2 The city came under siege [for nearly two years] until the eleventh year of King Zedekiah. 3 On the ninth day of the fourth month the famine [caused by the siege] was severe in the city; there was no food for the people of the land. 4 Then the city [wall] was broken into [and conquered]; all the men of war fled by night by way of the gate between the two walls by the king’s garden, though the a Chaldeans (Babylonians) were all around the city. And they went by way of the Arabah (the plain of the Jordan). 5 The army of the Chaldeans pursued the king and overtook him in the plains of Jericho. Then his entire army was dispersed from him. 6 So they seized the king (Zedekiah) and brought him to the king of Babylon at Riblah [on the Orontes River], and sentence was passed on him. 7 They slaughtered the sons of Zedekiah before his eyes, then put out the eyes of Zedekiah and bound him [hand and foot] with bronze fetters and brought him to Babylon. [Jer 34:3 ; Ezek 12:13 ] Jerusalem Burned and Plundered 8 On the seventh day of the fifth month in the nineteenth year of King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, Nebuzaradan, captain of the bodyguard, a servant of the king of Babylon, came to Jerusalem. 9 He burned the house (temple) of the LORD , the king’s house, and all the houses of Jerusalem; every great house he burned down. 10 All the army of the Chaldeans (Babylonians) who were with the captain of the bodyguard tore down the walls around Jerusalem. 11 Then Nebuzaradan the captain of the bodyguard deported [into exile] the rest of the people who were left in the city and the deserters who had joined the king of Babylon, and the rest of the multitude. 12 But the captain of the bodyguard left some of the unimportant and poorest people of the land to be vineyard workers and farmers. 13 Now the Chaldeans (Babylonians) smashed the bronze pillars which were in the house of the LORD and their bases and the bronze sea (large basin) which were in the house of the LORD , and carried the bronze to Babylon.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  Song of Solomon 3 a 3:7 A conveyance that was used in ancient times especially for the transport of one person, that consisted of an enclosed sedan chair usually in the form of a box with wooden shutters, and that is carried on the shoulders of men by means of projecting poles. Song of Solomon 6 a 6:4 A city in northern Israel known for its gardens and natural beauty. b 6:8 See note Gen 22:24 . Song of Solomon 7 a 7:5 I.e. the long, unbound hair of a woman. Song of Solomon 8 a 8:6 Heb YHWH (Yahweh) . The Book of Isaiah Isaiah 1 Rebellion of God’s People 1 T HE VISION of [the prophet] Isaiah the son of Amoz concerning [the kingdom of] Judah and [its capital] Jerusalem, which he saw [as revealed by God] during the reigns of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah. 2 Hear, O heavens, and listen, O earth; For the LORD has spoken: “I have reared and brought up sons, But they have rebelled against Me and have broken away. 3 “The ox [instinctively] knows its owner, And the donkey its master’s feeding trough, But Israel does not know [Me as LORD ], My people do not understand.” 4 Ah, sinful nation, A people loaded down with wickedness [with sin, with injustice, with wrongdoing], Offspring of evildoers, Sons who behave corruptly! They have abandoned (rejected) the LORD , They have despised the Holy One of Israel [provoking Him to anger], They have turned away from Him. 5 Why should you be stricken and punished again [since no change results from it]? You [only] continue to rebel. The whole head is sick And the whole heart is faint and sick. 6 From the sole of the foot even to the head There is nothing healthy in the nation’s body, Only bruises, welts, and raw wounds, Not pressed out or bandaged, Nor softened with oil [as a remedy]. 7 Your land lies desolate [because of your disobedience], Your cities are burned with fire, Your fields—strangers are devouring them in your very presence; It is desolate, as overthrown by strangers. 8 The Daughter of Zion (Jerusalem) is left like a [deserted] shelter in a vineyard, Like a watchman’s hut in a cucumber field, like a besieged city [isolated, surrounded by devastation]. 9 If the LORD of hosts Had not left us a few survivors, We would be like Sodom, We would be like Gomorrah. [Gen 19:24 , 25 ; Rom 9:29 ] God Has Had Enough 10 Hear the word of the LORD [rulers of Jerusalem], You rulers of [another] Sodom, Listen to the law and instruction of our God, You people of [another] Gomorrah. 11 “What are your multiplied sacrifices to Me [without your repentance]?” Says the LORD .

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  “O LORD ” [cries Jerusalem], “look at my affliction, For the enemy has magnified himself [in triumph]!” 10 The adversary has spread out his hand Over all her precious and desirable things; For she has seen the [Gentile] nations enter her sanctuary (the Jerusalem temple)— b The ones whom You commanded That they should not enter into Your congregation [not even in the outer courts]. [Deut 23:3 ; Jer 51:51 ; Ezek 44:7 , 9 ] 11 All her people groan, seeking bread; They have exchanged their desirable and precious things for food To restore their lives. “See, O LORD , and consider How despised and repulsive I have become!” 12 “Is it nothing to you, all you who pass this way? Look and see if there is any pain like my pain Which was severely dealt out to me, Which the LORD has inflicted [on me] on the day of His fierce anger. 13 “From on high He sent fire into my bones, And it prevailed over them . He has spread a net for my feet; He has turned me back. He has made me desolate and hopelessly miserable, Faint all the day long. 14 “The yoke of my transgressions is bound; By His hand they are knit and woven together. They have come upon my neck. He has made my strength fail; The Lord has put me into the hand Of those against whom I cannot stand. [Deut 28:48 ] 15 “The Lord has rejected all the strong men In my midst; He has proclaimed an established time against me To crush my young men. The Lord has trampled down as in a wine press The Virgin Daughter of Judah. 16 “I weep for these things; My eyes overflow with tears, Because a comforter, One who could restore my soul, is far away from me. My children are desolate and perishing, For the enemy has prevailed.” [Lam 1:21 ] 17 Zion stretches out her hands, But there is no comforter for her. The LORD has commanded concerning Jacob That his neighbors should be his enemies; Jerusalem has become a filthy thing [an object of contempt] among them. 18 “The LORD is righteous and just; For I have rebelled against His commandment (His word). Hear now, all you peoples, And look at my pain; My virgins and my young men Have gone into captivity. 19 “I [Jerusalem] called to my lovers (political allies), but they deceived me. My priests and my elders perished in the city While they looked for food to restore their strength. 20 “See, O LORD , how distressed I am! My spirit is deeply disturbed; My heart is overturned within me and cannot rest, For I have been very rebellious. In the street the sword kills and bereaves; In the house there is [famine, disease and] death! 21 “People have heard that I groan, That I have no comforter [in You].

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  His head tilted, as if to see me in a different light. He glinted at the edges, protean, slipping. I had to grab him while I still could. Pin him down until he’d admit to his shape-shifting lies. He rubbed his face. I can’t help you, Will, he said. I’ve tried, but I don’t have the time. To be honest, I’ve lost interest. Before I could think of how I’d respond, Phoebe pulled me back. Soon, we’d left the protest behind. We stood out on the street, hailing taxis. Lines of cars sped past, cutting long scars in the slush. The cabs were all occupied. I’d forgotten where I’d parked. I watched the sidewalk flecks, blotted gum. The harsh dazzle of pitted ice. Wind stirred the trash. In a lost, past life, I’d fancied these to be coded messages, dispatches from a loving Lord. Each detail flashed with divine relevance, but it was a false hope. What I had instead was this: salted bitumen, an oil-stained plastic bag. I should give it more attention, not less. I swayed, trying to understand. With a brush of kidskin, Phoebe put my hand to a lamppost. Hold this, she said. I’ll be back in an instant. She crossed the plain of ice until I couldn’t be sure which of the distant backs was hers. Folios of newsprint drifted. Close by, a girl in bright lipstick fiddled with a bike’s chain. She jumped on its seat; she lurched left, raincoat flaring out. The thin form grew a sail, a pale nephilim wing. I thought she’d fall, but she pinged the bike bell, then swept down the street. Will, Phoebe called, leaning out from an idling cab. She took me to the station, waiting until the first train that would go north to Noxhurst. Once it pulled in, she talked the attendant into letting her on without a ticket. He doesn’t feel well, and I’m not staying, she explained, giving him her smile. Here, she said, pushing my seat into a recline. I tried to apologize, but she said she had to get back to the protest. She set my phone’s alarm to ring before my stop. What about the apartment? I asked, remembering. Your friend’s place. Oh, that, she said. She took out her phone. I was about to say I could wait in the apartment until the protest finished, but she said, still looking at the phone, I’m staying the night. From the train, I watched Phoebe go, striding fast, horizontal. I’d have left the train, chased Phoebe down, if I’d been less to blame. The train slid into the afternoon, and I slept until the Noxhurst station. – Up through the next morning, in spite of what she’d said, I still thought Phoebe would come back Saturday night. But I woke Sunday to find she wasn’t home.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  The next day I said to her, ‘Give your son so that we may eat him’; but she had hidden her son.” 30 When the king heard the woman’s words, he h tore his clothes—now he was still walking along on the wall—and the people looked [at him], and he had on i sackcloth underneath [his royal robe] next to his skin. 31 Then he said, “j May God do so to me and more also, if the head of Elisha the son of Shaphat remains on him today!” 32 Now Elisha was sitting in his house, and the elders were sitting with him. And the king sent a man ahead of him [to behead Elisha]; but before the messenger arrived, Elisha told the elders, “Do you see how this son of [Jezebel] a murderer has sent [a man] to remove my head? Look, when the messenger comes, shut the door and hold it securely against him. Is not the sound of his master’s feet [just] behind him?” 33 While Elisha was still talking with them, the messenger came down to him [followed by the king] and the king said, “This evil [situation] is from the LORD ! Why should I wait for [help from] the LORD any longer?” 2 Kings 7 Elisha Promises Food 1 T HEN ELISHA said, “Hear the word of the LORD . Thus says the LORD , ‘Tomorrow about this time a a measure of finely-milled flour will sell for a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria.’ ” 2 Then the royal officer on whose arm the king leaned answered the man of God and said, “If the LORD should make windows in heaven [for the rain], could this thing take place?” Elisha said, “Behold, you will see it with your own eyes, but [because you doubt] you will not eat of it.” Four Lepers Relate Arameans’ Flight 3 Now four men who were b lepers were at the entrance of the [city’s] gate; and they said to one another, “Why should we sit here until we die? 4 “If we say, ‘We will enter the city’—then the famine is in the city and we will die there; and if we sit still here, we will also die. So now come, let us go over to the camp of the Arameans (Syrians). If they let us live, we will live; and if they kill us, we will only die.” 5 So they got up at twilight to go to the Aramean camp. But when they came to the edge of the camp, there was no one there. 6 For the LORD had caused the Aramean army to hear the sound of chariots, and the sound of horses, the sound of a great army.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "Because when I feel the human world is doomed, has doomed itself by its own mingy beastliness, then I feel the Colonies aren't far enough. The moon wouldn't be far enough, because even there you could look back and see the earth, dirty, beastly, unsavoury among all the stars: made foul by men. Then I feel I've swallowed gall, and it's eating my inside out, and nowhere's far enough away to get away. But when I get a turn, I forget it all again. Though it's a shame, what's been done to people these last hundred years: men turned into nothing but labour-insects, and all their manhood taken away, and all their real life. I'd wipe the machines off the face of the earth again, and end the industrial epoch absolutely, like a black mistake. But since I can't, an' nobody can, I'd better hold my peace, an' try an' live my own life: if I've got one to live, which I rather doubt." The thunder had ceased outside, but the rain which had abated, suddenly came striking down, with a last blench of lightning and mutter of departing storm. Connie was uneasy. He had talked so long now, and he was really talking to himself, not to her. Despair seemed to come down on him completely, and she was feeling happy, she hated despair. She knew her leaving him, which he had only just realised inside himself, had plunged him back into this mood. And she triumphed a little. She opened the door and looked at the straight heavy rain, like a steel curtain, and had a sudden desire to rush out into it, to rush away. She got up, and began swiftly pulling off her stockings, then her dress and underclothing, and he held his breath. Her pointed keen animal breasts tipped and stirred as she moved. She was ivory-coloured in the greenish light. She slipped on her rubber shoes again and ran out with a wild little laugh, holding up her breasts to the heavy rain and spreading her arms, and running blurred in the rain with the eurythmic dance-movements she had learned so long ago in Dresden. It was a strange pallid figure lifting and falling, bending so the rain beat and glistened on the full haunches, swaying up again and coming belly-forward through the rain, then stooping again so that only the full loins and buttocks were offered in a kind of homage towards him, repeating a wild obeisance.