When do we live? That's what I want to know.

Jul 5

“She was beginning to hate everything that was old. What was that word which Steerpike kept denouncing whenever he met her? He was always saying it was dreadful - ‘Authority’: that was it.” Titus Groan, Mervyn Peake.

Jul 4

“Behind him she saw something which by contrast with the alien, incalculable figure before her, was close and real. It was something which she understood, something which she could never do without, or be without, for it seemed as though it were her own self, her own body, at which she gazed and which lay so intimately upon the skyline. Gormenghast. The long, notched outline of her home. It was now his background. It was a screen of walls and towers pocked with windows. He stood against it, an intruder, imposing himself so vividly, so solidly against her world, his head overtopping the loftiest of its towers.” Titus Groan, Mervyn Peake.

Jul 3

“

Fuchsia fell at full length and began to chew at the grass in front of her. Her eyes as they gazed upon the lake were still inflamed.

“I hate things! I hate all things! I hate and hate every single tiniest thing. I hate the world,” said Fuchsia aloud, raising herself on her elbows, her face to the sky.

“I shall live alone. Always alone. In a house, or in a tree.”

Fuchsia started to chew at a fresh grass blade.

“Someone will come then, if I live alone. Someone from another kind of world - a new world - not from this world, but someone who is different, and he will fall in love with me at once because I live alone and aren’t like the other beastly things in this world, and he’ll enjoy having me because of my pride.”

” Titus Groan, Mervyn Peake.

Jul 2

“There he was. The infant Titus. His eyes were open but he was quite still. The puckered-up face of the newly-born child, old as the world, wise as the roots of trees. Sin was there and goodness, love, pity and horror, and even beauty for his eyes were pure violet. Earth’s passions, earth’s griefs, earth’s incongruous, ridiculous humours - dormant, yet visible in the wry pippin of a face.” Titus Groan, Mervyn Peake

When do we live? That's what I want to know.

The evolving tastes of a film student in London.