Last Night At The Telegraph Quotes

Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to have nothing keeping you attached to the ground?

She’s having a hard time right now because you’re not what she expected. But we’re never what our parents expected. They have to learn that lesson.

Are you like the girls in the book too? Because I think I am.

Here was her mother sitting down across from her, reaching for her hands and chafing them as if she were frozen. She felt the rub of her mother’s wedding ring against her skin, and her mother’s face swam into focus, her brown eyes full of the sharp worry of love, and Lily thought, You will never look at me like this again.

It wasn’t like chocolate, Lily thought. It was like finding water after a drought. She couldn’t drink enough, and her thirst made her ashamed, and the shame made her angry.

Perhaps that was the most perverse part of this: the inside-outness of everything, as if denial would make it go away, when it only made the pain in her chest tighten, when it only made her emotions clearer.

Now she was confused, as if she’d been reading a book that had several pages removed, but hadn’t realized the pages were gone until this moment.

An unfamiliar emotion swelled inside her at this image. A strangely sharp pang for a place she had never visited. For a people she resembled but did not know.

The word felt dangerous, and also powerful, as if uttering it would summon someone or something

She wondered where Kath was. She wondered if Kath could sense her, sitting here on this train as it took her away. Perhaps it was possible, if she closed her eyes and sent out her thoughts along the steel track like a message along a telegraph wire. I love you. I love you. The train swayed gently beneath her, and she leaned against the window to feel the cool glass against her cheek, and she was sure that Kath had heard her, she was sure.

The great trains howling from track to track all night. The taut and telegraphic murmur of ten thousand city wires, drawn most cruelly against a city sky. The rush of city waters, beneath the city streets. The passionate passing of the night's last El.

To all the butches and femmes, past, present, and future.

They had hugged each other quickly, and Lily realized then and there that they'd never be able to kiss goodbye in public. (A tightening in her chest as she reluctantly turned away.)

How am I supposed to know?” she asked instead. “What’s it supposed to be like?” Lana and Claire traded tiny smiles, and Claire asked gently, “What’s what supposed to be like?” Lily slumped back against the sofa, feeling boneless and muddled. “Falling in love, I guess.” “You’ll know,” Claire said. “It’s unmistakable.” (How she could recognize Kath at the other end of a crowded Galileo hallway by the way she walked.) “It’s like . . . well, it’s like falling,” Lana said. “Falling, or floating, or sinking.” (Every time they kissed.) “You won’t know which way is up.” “It’s like having a fever.” (The way the world seemed to narrow down to the tips of Kath’s fingers.) “It’s like being drunk—drunk for days.

Did that mean that she had always been destined to come here? To this city and this land so far from her home?

The hurt felt real - much more real than the entire afternoon of staying silent. So she lay on the hard wooden floor between her brothers' beds and let that ache fill her.

A few hours at home and the Telegraph Club seemed more like a fantasy than a real thing. This troubled her. It felt as if someone had taken an eraser to her memory - to her very self - and rubbed at it, then blown away the remains.

Wake up. You are here.

At each intersection she cast skittish glances at the women waiting for the light to change, wondering if she was one of them too, or her, or her.

It also revealed the naked expanse of her back, the bones of her spine like a map for someone’s fingers.

She didn't understand the shrinking feeling inside her, as if she shouldn't be caught looking at those girls.

It wasn't Lily who was the figurine in a diorama; it was her mother. Her mother was going round and round on that track, hearing only what she wanted to hear.

Perhaps one day she’d get used to the way it made her feel: dislocated and dazed, never quite certain if the other half of her would stay offstage as directed. But tonight she felt as if she were constantly on the edge of saying or doing something wrong, and the effort of keeping that unwelcome half silent was making her sick.

As if summer had bloomed inside the club and wrapped her in its lazy heat

She felt a queer giddiness overtaking her, as if her body might float up from the ground because she was so buoyant with this lightness, this love.

Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Oh no. I’m no beauty queen.” Kath smiled a little. “I don’t know about that.

butch like a blue ribbon awarded at the county fair, baby like a promise.

She knew that what she had read in Strange Season was not only scandalous, it was perverse. She should feel dirtied by reading it; she should feel guilty for being thrilled by it. The problem was, she didn’t. She felt as if she had finally cracked the last part of a code she had been puzzling over for so long that she couldn’t remember when she had started deciphering it. She felt exhilarated.

It’s not a mistake,” Lily said miserably. Her mother strode across the kitchen and slapped her. Lily jerked backward, shocked. Her mother hadn’t hit her in years—since she was eight or nine—and she instantly felt like that child again, cowering in fear of another strike. With the terror came a crippling guilt and the belief that she must have done something awful, that she deserved this punishment.

She could almost see the curve of the earth on the oceans horizon. Or she imagined that she could. And it gave her a physical sense of how far away from home she had traveled. Yes, she truly had come that far. No, she really wasn’t going home anytime soon. There was a strange sense of freedom in those thoughts. They left her free to be here, in this place, right now.

David and Eva kissed again, their eyes telegraphing something about how it would be later that night when they were alone. Then Eva took Magnus' hand and they walked off, waving one last time. David remained on the sidewalk, watching them. What if I never see them again... The usual fear gripped him. God had been too good to him, there'd been a mistake, he had got more than he deserved. Now it would all be taken away. Eva and Magnus disappeared around the corner and an impulse told him to run after them, stop them. Say, "Come on. Let's go home. We'll watch Shrek, we'll play Monopoly, we...can't let ourselves be separated." The usual fears, but worse than usual.

And yet she couldn’t say the word the book had used to describe those kinds of girls: lesbian. The word felt dangerous, and also powerful, as if uttering it would summon someone or something—a policeman to arrest them for saying that word, or even worse, a real-life lesbian herself.

Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to have nothing keeping you attached to the ground? When we were taking off, the plane was rolling along the runway on its wheels, right? You could feel every bump and every jolt. And it went faster and faster and then all of a sudden—nothing.” Kath snapped her fingers, the excitement of the memory suffusing her face in a rosy glow. “The wheels lift off the ground, and you don’t feel it anymore. There are no more bumps. Everything is miraculously smooth. You feel like—well, like a bird! Nothing’s holding you down. You’re floating. You’re flying. And the ground just falls away below you, and you look out the window and everything becomes more and more distant, and none of it matters anymore. You’re up in the air.

The sensation of having already met someone, or what the French called deja vu, the feeling of having already seen something. There was probably a scientific explanation for it, but the older she got, the more she was inclined to give ino the the feeling that these moments were glimpses into a world greater than this physical one. It was as if there were cycles that repeated themselves over and over, but most people never saw the repetition; they were too deeply enmeshed in their own path to see.

I wasn’t sure you felt that way,” Kath said, and came closer to Lily. “I mean, I hoped.

But we're never what our parents expected. They have to learn that lesson.

but she felt her uncertainty like an unreachable itch between her shoulder blades.

What if she had fallen in love with someone she shouldn't

Lily began to skirt the edge of the living room, going around the dancing couples, and caught Kath’s eye on the way. Kath rose from the couch immediately, nearly spilling her drink.

But she doesn't trust me anyway," Lily said. "No, she trusts you. She's having a hard time right now because you're not what she expected. But we're never what our parents expected. They have to learn that lesson.

Kath reached for her arm and said, “Wait—wait.” Lily felt Kath’s hand slide down her arm and lodge around her wrist, then around her fingers, pulling her to a halt. “What happened?” Kath asked. “I know something happened.

On the bottom of the plane a sticker read made in japan. She ran the edge of her fingernail beneath it, and it lifted off so easily, as if it had barely been there to begin with. But a sticky residue remained, a trace of the plane’s hidden origin.

She’d always thought there was something magical about the city, with its steep stairways and sudden glimpses of the bay between tall, narrow buildings. It felt expansive and full of promise, each half-hidden opening a reminder that the city she had been born in still held mysteries to discover.

out of the corner of her eye she saw the group of men again. She had almost forgotten about them. Now they seemed somewhat pathetic; they were middle-aged and balding, dressed in ugly plaid shirts. There was a desperation to the way they were eyeing the girls. Whatever danger she had sensed from their attention had turned to pity,

Do you remember that day in Senior Goals when you said it wasn't strange that I wanted to go to the moon?" "I remember." "I think that was the first day I really noticed you." "Took you that long?" Kath teased her. "Maybe I'm a late bloomer," Lily said tartly. "Why, when did you notice me?" Kath shot her a grin. "You really want to know?" "Yes!" "Well . . . last year, you helped me with a geometry proof. You probably don't remember. You do this thing where you . . ." Kath trailed off, looking a little shy. "What? What do I do?" "You chew on your lip when you do a difficult math problem," Kath said. "It's cute." Lily's face went red, and she laughed. "I'd better stop that in college, or no one with take me seriously.

There was probably a scientific explanation for it, but the older she got, the more she was inclined to give in to the feeling that these moments were glimpses into a world greater than this physical one. It was as if there were cycles that repeated themselves over and over, but most people never saw the repetition; they were too deeply enmeshed in their own path to see.

Sometimes Judy felt a deep and burning anger at her adopted country, and she never knew what to do about it. She had come to America for an education and had intended to return home, but first she had met Francis and then the Communists had taken over and now, unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. America had given her so much in the four years since she arrived, but it also regularly reminded her of how it saw people like her.

She felt Kath's hand letting go of hers again and again; her fingers sliding through hers over and over. Everything she and Kath had done could be erased so easily. It could be erased by her family pretending it had never happened. It could be erased by her parents uprooting her from her home and sending her away so that Kath would not know where she was. It could be erased because they were her parents and she was their daughter, and they loved her, and she could not disobey them even if it broke her heart.

I remember standing in the wings when Mother’s voice cracked and went into a whisper. The audience began to laugh and sing falsetto and to make catcalls. It was all vague and I did not quite understand what was going on. But the noise increased until Mother was obliged to walk off the stage. When she came into the wings she was very upset and argued with the stage manager who, having seen me perform before Mother’s friends, said something about letting me go on in her place. And in the turmoil I remember him leading me by the hand and, after a few explanatory words to the audience, leaving me on the stage alone. And before a glare of footlights and faces in smoke, I started to sing, accompanied by the orchestra, which fiddled about until it found my key. It was a well-known song called Jack Jones that went as follows: Jack Jones well and known to everybody Round about the market, don’t yer see, I’ve no fault to find with Jack at all, Not when ’e’s as ’e used to be. But since ’e’s had the bullion left him ’E has altered for the worst, For to see the way he treats all his old pals Fills me with nothing but disgust. Each Sunday morning he reads the Telegraph, Once he was contented with the Star. Since Jack Jones has come into a little bit of cash, Well, ’e don’t know where ’e are. Half-way through, a shower of money poured on to the stage. Immediately I stopped and announced that I would pick up the money first and sing afterwards. This caused much laughter. The stage manager came on with a handkerchief and helped me to gather it up. I thought he was going to keep it. This thought was conveyed to the audience and increased their laughter, especially when he walked off with it with me anxiously following him. Not until he handed it to Mother did I return and continue to sing. I was quite at home. I talked to the audience, danced, and did several imitations including one of Mother singing her Irish march song that went as follows: Riley, Riley, that’s the boy to beguile ye, Riley, Riley, that’s the boy for me. In all the Army great and small, There’s none so trim and neat As the noble Sergeant Riley Of the gallant Eighty-eight. And in repeating the chorus, in all innocence I imitated Mother’s voice cracking and was surprised at the impact it had on the audience. There was laughter and cheers, then more money-throwing; and when Mother came on the stage to carry me off, her presence evoked tremendous applause. That night was my first appearance on the stage and Mother’s last.

Sometimes Judy felt a deep and burning anger at her adoptive country and she never knew what to do about it. She had come to America for an education and had intended to return home. But first, she had met Francis, and then the communists had taken over. And now, unfortunately, she couldn’t leave. America had given her so much in the four years since she arrived. But it also regularly reminded her of how it saw people like her.

Kath took off her jacket. “Here,” she said, offering it to Lily. “But then you’ll be cold. It’s my own fault I didn’t bring my coat.” “I have long sleeves. You take it.

We don’t see many Orientals around here.” And then: “Does she speak English?

tourists gaping at the glistening roast ducks hanging on hooks in the deli windows.

We don’t see many Orientals around here. Do you speak English?

No one in this church knew she had been to the Telegraph Club or that she would go again. No one. The thought was disorienting, as if she had lived a second life in a separate dimension, and she had to curl her fingers over the hard wooden edge of the pew in order to remind herself of where she was.

They had good seats—far enough away from the center to be able to see almost all of the dome without craning their necks too much.

Sweet sixteen.” There was a honeyed tone to Tommy’s voice, a low dip to it that sounded like a secret.

Kath frowned and shook her head. “I guess I don’t understand. I thought we were—” Kath cut herself off, sounding frustrated.

Are you all right?” Kath asked, reaching out to steady her. She felt Kath’s fingers brush her arm,

Do you speak English? Where are you from?” Lily stiffened. “Chinatown. I was born here.” Sal looked impressed. “You don’t even have an accent. That’s amazing.” “I was born here,” Lily said again, a bit more sharply. “I thought all the Orientals in Chinatown only spoke Chinese.” “No.

Imaginou se Kath estava pensando nela. E se estivessem uma pensando na outra ao mesmo tempo?

If you lie about it, it’ll make it easier in the beginning, but your mother will never trust you again. Because she’ll know you lied to her. And every time you speak she’ll wonder if you’re lying- even if you’re talking about what you had for dinner, and especially who you went to dinner with. It’s better to be true to yourself than give her a reason not to trust you.

No, she trusts you. She’s having a hard time right now because you’re not what she expected. But we’re never what our parents expected.

On the evening of 7 December (1917), the first British troops saw Jerusalem. A heavy fog hung over the city; rain darkened the hills. The next morning, Governor Izzat Bey smashed his telegraph instruments with a hammer, handed over his writ of surrender to the mayor, "borrowed" a carriage with two horses from the American Colony which he swore to return, and galloped away toward Jericho. All night thousands of Ottoman troops trudged through the city and out of history. At 3 a.m. on the 9th, German forces withdrew from the city on what Count Ballobar called "a day of astounding beauty." The last Turk left St. Stephen's Gate at 7 a.m. By coincidence, it was the first day of Jewish Hanukkah, the festival of lights that celebrated the Maccabean liberation of Jerusalem. Looters raided the shops on Jaffa Road. At 8:45 a.m., British soldiers approached the Zion Gate.

She wondered if Kath could sense her, sitting on this train as it took her away. Perhaps it was possible, if she closed her eyes and sent out her thoughts along the steel track like a message along a telephone wire. I love you. I love you. The train swayed gently beneath her, and she leaned against the window to feel the cool glass against her cheek, and she was sure that Kath had heard her, she was sure.

If she closed her eyes she might fix this in her memory always: the pulse in Kath's throat; the warmth of her body; the scent of her skin.

The midnight world in which they had met did not belong here in the brightly lit public afternoon.

It was as if there were cycles that repeated themselves over and over, but most people never saw the repetition; they were too deeply enmeshed in their own path to see.

We're never what our parents expected. They have to learn that lesson.

A few of them were already engaged to be married. When had everything changed? She felt as if it had been very sudden

Well, we could go. To the Telegraph Club.

Ever since he returned from the war, he'd felt as if part of him were still back in China, but he wasn't there anymore. Those army hospitals had long been dismantled; those boys he treated had returned to their homes- or at least they were beyond suffering. And here he was now: in this gaily colored and dramatically lit nightclub in America, sitting across from his American wife. The music was loud and brash; the smell of perfume and cigarettes lay heavy on the air. He lifted his mai tai to his lips and took another sip of his drink, the condensation dripping down the side of his hand like an electric shock. Wake up. You are here.

She began to feel as if she had been split in two, and only one half of her was here in this living room. That was the good Chinese daughter who was delicately chewing her way around the bones in each piece of hsün yü, carefully extracting them from her mouth and laving the tiny white spines on the edge of her plate with her chop-sticks. The other half had been left out on the sidewalk before Lily walked in the front door. That was the girl who had spent last night in the North Beach apartment of a Caucasian woman she barely knew. Everything would be all right, Lily understood, as long as she kept that girl out of this Chinese family. Perhaps one day she'd get used to the way it made her feel: dislocated and dazed, never quite certain if the other half of her would stay offstage as directed. But tonight she felt as if she were constantly on the edge of saying or doing something wrong, and the effort of keeping that unwelcome half silent was making her sick.

The round pinkness of her bare heel; the intimate arch of her foot; toes flexing in midair.

young Chinese woman wearing a sky-blue cheongsam

Lily imagined the girl sinking onto the stool to rest her feet, slipping them out of her black pumps

Wait—I left my coat.

America had given her so much in the four years since she arrived, but it also regularly reminded her of how it saw people like her.

Maybe it’s not too late for you and Will. I can talk to him.

Do you really like Paula? Really? She’s so . . .” “Solid?” Claire suggested,

what harm will it do to go with him? But she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. The word was stuck in her throat like a tiny fish bone. It scratched. “I’m not allowed to—

Do you … do you have feelings for her?” Kath whispered. “For Tommy?” Lily wanted to laugh, but she had started to cry and her laughter came out of her in a choked sob. “No, I have feelings for you.