Orion Quotes

Can we please focus? We are supposed to be professionals." Holly said. "Not me!" said Orion cheerily, "I'm just a Teenager with hormones running wild and may I say, young fairy lady, they're running wild in your direction.

Orion:"Oh, how I pray that dragon will turn 'round so that I may smite it." Foaly: "Smite it with what? Your secret birthmark?" Orion: "Don't you mock my birthmark, which I may or may not have.

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.

I feel a little dizzy," said Orion. "But also wonderfully elated. I feel that I am on the verge of finding a rhyme for the word orange." "Oxygen deprivation," said Foaly. "Or maybe it's just him.

It's not our talents that make us safe or dangerous, it's our choices.

Orion brightened. "I have an idea." "Yes?" said Foaly, daring to hope that a spark of Artemis remained. "Why don't we look for some magic stones that can grant wishes? Or, if that doesn't work, you could search my naked body for some mysterious birthmark that means I am actually the prince of somewhere or other.

Ah, my princess. Noble steed. How does the morning find you both?

I decided that Orion needed to die after the second time he saved my life.

Holly is alive,' thought Foaly 'My princess lives,'exulted Orion. 'And we're chasing a dragon

Orion is above the horizon now, and near it Jupiter, brighter than it will ever be ... But i expect you can see it too. Some of our stars are the same.

Orion sniffed. "Good. Then, worthy centaur, perhaps you could give me a ride to the village on your way back. Then I can make a few pennies wth my verses while you build us a shack and perform circus tricks for passersby." This was such a surprising statement that Foaly briefly considered jumping into the hole to get away.

Some sorcerers get an affinity for weather magic, or transformation spells, or fantastic combat magics like dear Orion. I got an affinity for mass destruction.

So if you're not Artemis Fowl, then who are you?" The boy extended a dripping hand straight up. "My name is Orion. I am so pleased to meet you at last. I am, of course, your servant." Holly shook the proferred hand, thinking that manners were lovely, but she really needed someone cunning and ruthless right now, and this kid didn't appear to be very cunning.

You are meant for the sunlight, Lance Orion. So you’ll stand with me in it or else we’ll stay in the dark together,

I am not exuding anything," said Holly through gritted teeth. Orion tapped her shoulder. "I beg to differ. You're exuding right now, a wonderful aura. It's pastel blue with little dolphins.

You know, Miss Holly, you look very dramatic like that, backlit by the fire. Very attractive, if I may say so. I know you shared a moment passionne with Artemis which he subsequently fouled up with his typical boorish behavior. Let me just throw something out there for you to consider while we're chasing the probe: I share Artemis's passion but not his boorishness. No pressure; just think about it. This was enough to elicit a deafening moment of silence even in the middle of a crisis, which Orion seemed to be blissfully unaffected by.

Hey Orion? Put some pants on, toss her over your shoulder, and carry her off like a man, for the love of Pete!

Orion nodded, then asked, “Dwarf cheese?” “Cheese made by dwarfs.” “Oh,” said Orion, relieved. “They make it. It’s not actually . . .” “No. What a horrible thought.” “Exactly.

This is not a game to me,” Orion cut in. “I would rather die by your hand than have you believe me a traitor. I would rather take a fast bullet than have us pitted on different sides of an agonizing battle.

I never really have been, and I’m certain now that I never will be, and you know why? Because it’s impossible for me to love anyone like I love you—and I really tried with Orion.

How do I love thee? wondered Orion. "Let me see. I love thee passionately and eternally...obviously eternally-that goes without saying." Holly blinked sweat from her eyes. "Is he serious?" she called over her shoulder to Foaly. "Oh, absolutely," said the centaur "If he asks you to look for birthmarks, say no immediately." "Oh, I would never." Orion assured her. "Ladies don't look for birthmarks; that is work for jolly fellows like the Goodly Beast and myself. Ladies, like Miss Short, do enough by simply existing. They exude beauty, and that is enough." "I am not exuding anything." said Holly, through gritted teeth. Orion tapped her shoulder. "I beg to differ. You're exuding right now, a wonderful aura. It's pastel blue with little dolphins." Holly gripped the wheel tightly. "I'm going to be sick. Did he just say pastel blue?" "And dolphins, little ones," said Foaly.

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.

My whole life I've wondered what it feels like to be loved like that. To be loved more.

My heart is sand and Orion's cruel tide has washed it away from me, scattered it, lost it.

In the eternal night of the Orion Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, two civilization had swept through like two shooting stars, and the universe had remembered their light.

There is no greater power than the one others do not believe you possess.

Oh, but I don't abide by your time frame, giant," Reyna said. "A Roman does not wait for death. She seeks it out, and meets it on her own terms.

don't get too close, i'll turn you into poetry

Why can't it just work?" she moaned. "Just once I want to come up with a plan and have it work. Is that too much to ask?" Orion opened his mouth, about to say something to calm Helen down. "Of course it isn't!" Helen interrupted, her rant picking up steam. "But nothing works down here! Not our talents, not even the geography works. That lake over there is tilted on a slope! It should be a river, but oh, no, not down here! That would make too much sense!

i only ever thought there were two kinds of loves: the kind you would kill for and the kind you would die for. but you, my darling, you were the kind of love i would live for.

...It also taught me that while cruelty can be fun for a few moments, compassion has a much longer shelf life.

Poor are those who have eyes but cannot see... ☥

ORION!” Rosalind screamed. “I AM DOING MY BEST, BELOVED.” “YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME A HERNIA.

Who are the real monsters?

Why no aggressive action?" Foaly squirmed in a harness built for two-legged creatures. "Oh yes, why no aggressive action? How I long for aggressive action." "I live for aggressive action!" thundered Orion squeakily which was unusual. "Oh, how I pray that dragon will turn 'round that I may smite it." "Smite it with what?" wandered Foaly "Your secret birthmark?" "Don't you mock my birthmark, which I may or may not have.

I still love you like moons love the planets they circle around, like children love recess bells. I still hear the sound of you and think of playgrounds where outcasts who stutter beneath braces and bruises and acne are finally learning that their rich handsome bullies are never gonna grow up to be happy. I think of happy when I think of you. So wherever you are I hope you’re happy, I really do. I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight I hope you finally found a way to quit smoking I hope your lungs are open and breathing this life I hope there’s a kite in your hand that’s flying all the way up to Orion and you still got a thousand yards of string to let out. I hope you’re smiling like God is pulling at the corners of your mouth, ‘cause I might be naked and lonely shaking branches for bones but I’m still time zones away from who I was the day before we met. You were the first mile where my heart broke a sweat, and I wish you were here; I wish you’d never left; but mostly I wish you well. I wish you my very, very best

He lay on his back in his blankets and looked our where the quartermoon lay cocked over the heel of the mountains. In the false blue dawn the Pleiades seemed to be rising up into the darkness above the world and dragging all the stars away, the great diamond of Orion and Cepella and the signature of Cassiopeia all rising up through the phosphorous dark like a sea-net. He lay a long time listening to the others breathing in their sleep while he contemplated the wildness about him, the wildness within.

A regular ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” Orion said sarcastically, acting more like himself again. “Oh, and that’s his ‘happy face’ by the way.

Orion breathed out. “There is no trick,” he said. “I allow this because I love you.

As Orion took a step closer, they wrapped their arms around each other in a miserable huddle.

Progress is dancing to the same song I used to cry to.

Sometimes things must break in order for the wishes we've longed for the most to come true.

Our hearts are not pure: our hearts are filled with need and greed as much as with love and grace, and we wrestle with our hearts all the time. The wrestling is who we are. How we wrestle is who we are. What we want to be is never what we are. Not yet. Maybe that's why we have these relentless engines in our chests, driving us forward toward what we might be." Orion (Jan/Feb 2005)

Bellona has answered my prayer. She doesn't fight my battles for me. She doesn't guarantee me easy victory. She grants me opportunities to prove myself. She gives me strong enemies and potential allies.

Orion sniffed. "Good. Then, worthy centaur, perhaps you could give me a ride to the village on your back. Then I can make a few pennies with my verses while you build us a shack and perform circus tricks for passerby." This was such a surprising statement that Foaly briefly considered jumping into the hole to get away.

She saw the snowy poles of moonless Mars, That marvellous round of milky light Below Orion, and those double stars Whereof the one more bright Is circled by the other

I’m not history, Orion. I’m here.

You will not find love where you wish or where you hope. ... She forced herself to meet the giant's gaze. "I don't define myself by the boys who may or may not like me.

I’m really attracted to Orion.

DIE!” Gleeson Hedge dropped directly behind Orion, smacking his baseball bat over the giant’s head so hard the Louisville Slugger cracked in half.

I was too busy admiring the petals that I forgot about the thorns.

Orion sniffed. "Good. Then, Worthy Centaur, perhaps you could give me a ride to the village on your back. Then I can make a few pennies with my verses while you build us a shack and perform circus tricks for passersby." This was such a surprising statement that Foaly briefly considered jumping into the hole to get away. "This isn't Middle Earth, you know. We're not in a novel. I am not noble, neither do I have a repertoire of circus tricks." Orion seemed disappointed. "Can you juggle at least?

Scorpions are quite ruthless, you know. That is why Artemis bid one of them to kill her foe Orion. And as a reward she set the scorpion on up in the sky. I'm not ruthless. I merely do whatever it takes to achive my goals That's not ruthless?

It was supposed to be Orion,

My name? My name is nothing compared to Orion.” “No, I love your name. You’ve got tons of nickname opportunities. I got O, and that’s it. Oh, actually, I also had people calling me ‘Oreo’ in high school. Hated that.” “That’s bad, but at least you didn’t have to deal with ‘Valentino’s Day’ every Valentines Day. I had to ask out my friends’ crushes for them like I was Cupid.” “I’m so sorry, Cupid.” “It’s okay, Oreo.

Where death follows, there’s life. When darkness surrounds you in a world of chaos, search and you’ll eventually find the light.

Eventually we all must return home, Praetor. We must embrace our past, no matter how bitter and dark." — Orion

But don't I deserve to be someone's first choice for a change?' All his life, in every life he'd lived, Orion had been the runner-up to someone else.

Not me," said Orion cheerily. "I'm just a teenager with hormones running wild. And may I say ,young fairy lady, they're running wild in your direction." Holly lifted her visor and looked the hormonal teenager in the eye. "This had better not be a game, Artemis. If you do not have some serious psychosis, you will be sorry." "Oh, I'm crazy, alright. I do have plenty of psychoses," said Orion Cheerily. "Multiple personality, delusional dementia, OCD. I've got them all, but most of all, I'm crazy about you.

This is for Phoebe,' she snarled in his ear. 'For Kinzie. For all those you killed. You will die at the hands of a girl.' Orion thrashed and fought, but Reyna's will was unshakeable. The power of Athena infused her cloak. Bellona blessed her with strength and resolve. Not one but two powerful goddesses aided her, yet the kill was for Reyna to complete. Complete it she did.

Can we actually suppose that we are wasting, polluting, and making ugly this beautiful land for the sake of patriotism and the love of God? Perhaps some of us would like to think so, but in fact this destruction is taking place because we have allowed ourselves to believe, and to live, a mated pair of economic lies: that nothing has a value that is not assigned to it by the market; and that the economic life of our communities can safely be handed over to the great corporations. (from 'Compromise, Hell!' published in the November/December 2004 issue of ORION magazine)

Leo unfurled the little strip of paper. It read: THAT’S YOUR REQUEST? SERIOUSLY? (OVER) On the back, the paper said: YOUR LUCKY NUMBERS ARE: TWELVE, JUPITER, ORION, DELTA, THREE, THETA, OMEGA. (WREAK VENGEANCE UPON GAEA, LEO VALDEZ.)

Ach, Hector, unser freundlicher Neandertaler." - Helen Hamilton

Who did this to you?” Orion’s voice was violently quiet. “I’ll kill them.

In WASP families, if you don't get along with someone, you have as little to do with them as possible. In Jewish families, you move next door, to make them as miserable as possible.

Only times and places, only names and ghosts.

Hold your hands out over the earth as over a flame. To all who love her, who open to her the doors of their veins, she gives of her strength, sustaining them with her own measureless tremor of dark life. Touch the earth, love the earth, honour the earth, her plains, her valleys, her hills, and her seas; rest your spirit in her solitary places. For the gifts of life are the earth’s and they are given to all, and they are the songs of birds at daybreak, Orion and the Bear, and dawn seen over ocean from the beach.

Words are more dangerous than swords and guns. They reach further and hurt deeper.

Predator and prey move in silent gestures, on the seductive dance of death, in the shadows cast by the vultures of the night. ☥

There's always more than one interpretation," Orion said from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at him as he came back into the library. "Face it. The Fates speak in riddles because they don't know what the hell they're talking about. If they did, they'd say something straightforward like, 'Orion is the Tyrant and he wants to eat your brains for breakfast' or whatever." Hector's shoulders started bouncing up and down with silent laughter. Lucas turned his head away and tried to stuff down a laugh of his own, but he made the mistake of catching Jason's eye. "Zombie Tyrant," Jason whispered to Lucas, his face turning red with a repressed laugh. "Huzzah death," Lucas whispered back, cracking up. Apparently, that was some kind of inside joke between the Delos boys because all three of them busted out laughing.

Light and Darkness. One cannot exist without the other. There is no true Master, without the power of balance. ☥

For the sake of “job creation,” in Kentucky, and in other backward states, we have lavished public money on corporations that come in and stay only so long as they can exploit people here more cheaply than elsewhere. The general purpose of the present economy is to exploit, not to foster or conserve. (from 'Compromise, Hell!' published in the November/December 2004 issue of ORION magazine)

There is no antidote, he writes, against the opium of time. The winter sun shows how soon the light fades from the ash, how soon night enfolds us. Hour upon hour is added to the sum. Time itself grows old. Pyramids, arches and obelisks are melting pillars of snow. Not even those who have found a place amidst the heavenly constellations have perpetuated their names: Nimrod is lost in Orion, and Osiris in the Dog Star. Indeed, old families last not three oaks.

Orion smiled and leaned back against the wall, letting his gaze drift down in thought. Helen stared at him for a few moments, just enjoying his company and the fact that he was there with her. No. Better than that. He was there for her.

You’re okay,” Rosalind repeated more kindly. “You’re going to be okay, I promise.” She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. As soon as he felt her touch, Orion shifted forward, leaning right onto her shoulder.

I am not in charge of this House, and never will be. I have no say about who is in and who is out. I do not get to make the rules. Like Job, I was nowhere when God laid the foundations of the earth. I cannot bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion. I do not even know when the mountain goats give birth, much less the ordinances of the heavens. I am a guest here, charged with serving other guests—even those who present themselves as my enemies. I am allowed to resist them, but as long as I trust in one God who made us all, I cannot act as if they are no kin to me. There is only one House. Human beings will either learn to live in it together or we will not survive to hear its sigh of relief when our numbered days are done.

Winter Stars I went out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit's wings— I bore my sorrow heavily. But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago. From windows in my father's house, Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl Above another city's lights. Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east The faithful beauty of the stars.

You are bound to me in matrimony. If you break it and descend into another plane of existence, I will chase after you and snatch you back.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the night air scented with hay, honeysuckle and the rich waters of the lake, listened to the music and laughter coming from the theatre, tilted her head to the the stars. She had never seen them so brilliant and clear. Cassiopeia, Orion, the great girdle of the Milky Way-and her own birth sign, Gemini. With such staggering beauty in the world, how could anyone not rejoice? It seemed however, that 'anyone' could. For at once came the age-old cry of lovers since time began. 'What are the stars if i am not gazing at them with him? What is beauty except something we share?

Rigel, Betelgeuse, and Orion. There was no finer church, no finer choir, than the stars speaking in silence to the many consumptives silently condemned, a legion upon the dark rooftops. The wind came down from the north like a runner in lacrosse, violent and hard, to batter every living thing. They were there, each one alone in conversation with the stars, mining ephemeral love from cold and distant light.

He'd turned the room into a planetarium. No, not a planetarium. A virtual galaxy. Brilliant stars splashed across the soaring walls and ceiling and swirled beneath our feet. Constellations dotted the "sky," including Andromeda, Perseus, and a distinctive hourglass shape that made my breath hitch. Orion. My favorite. "You can't see the stars in New York" Dante said. "So I brought the stars to you.

But too much love is poison, especially when that love is not returned

I don't have a very good idea of how people behave with their friends normally because I've never had one before. But, on the bright side, Orion hadn't either, so he didn't know any more than I did. So for lack of a better idea, we just went on being rude to each other, which was easy enough for me and a refreshing and new experience for him, in both directions.

Humans are naturally scared and confused beings. They not only fear the unknown, as they live fearing themselves... ☥

To face a real daemon, you must first look inwards and conquer your own darkness. ☥

Janx Spirit : Janx Spirit is a rather potent alcoholic beverage, and is used heavily in drinking games that are played in the hyperspace ports that serve the madranite mining belts in the star system of Orion Beta. The game is not unlike the Earth game called Indian Wrestling, and is played like this: Two contestants sit at either side of a table, with a glass in front of each of them. Between them would be placed a bottle of Janx Spirit — as immortalized in that ancient Orion mining song : “Oh don’t give me no more of that Old Janx Spirit No, don’t you give me no more of that Old Janx Spirit For my head will fly, my tongue will lie, my eyes will fry and I may die Won’t you pour me one more of that sinful Old Janx Spirit” Each of the two contestants would then concentrate their will on the bottle and attempt to tip it and pour spirit into the glass of his opponent – who would then have to drink it. The bottle would then be refilled. The game would be played again. And again. Once you started to lose you would probably keep losing, because one of the effects of Janx spirit is to depress telepsychic power. As soon as a predetermined quantity had been consumed, the final loser would have to perform a forfeit, which was usually obscenely biological.

Are you lecturing me again, Orion? Is that what this is?' ... 'I would never dream of lecturing you. I just thought it was interesting to think about.' 'Mmm-hmm. And how many times did you practice how you'd phrase this little gem of wisdom when you told me/' He runs a had through his thick, dark curls. 'Ah, umm...who says I practiced it?' I raise a single eyebrow at him. 'Two. Maybe three. Five. Not more that five

Most days I live awed by the world we have still, rather than mourning the worlds we have lost. The bandit mask of a cedar waxwing on a bare branch a few feet away; the clear bright sun of a frozen winter noon; the rise of Orion in the eastern evening sky-every day, every night, I give thanks for another chance to notice. I see beauty everywhere; so much beauty I often speak it aloud. So much beauty I often laugh, and my day is made. Still if you wanted to, I think, you could feel sadness without end. I’m not even talking about hungry children or domestic violence or endless wars between supposedly grown men…but ‘you mustn’t be frightened if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you even seen,' said Rilke, 'you must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in it hand and will not let you fall.

It’s the most spiritually empowering thing I know, to look up at the night sky and see Orion rising as the autumn closes in at the last moment, and it’s got me through some very hard times. When I had a couple of serious bouts of depression in my life the stars were a big factor in pulling me out. People used to say “What’s your spirituality?”, and I’d say I don’t know, but I found out looking at the stars last night and that’s what it was.

That black, maddening firmament; that vast cosmic ocean, endlessly deep in every direction, both Heaven and Pandemonium at once; mystical Zodiac, speckled flesh of Tiamat; all that is chaos, infinite and eternal. And yet, it's somehow the bringing to order of this chaos which perhaps has always disturbed me most. The constellations, in their way, almost bring into sharper focus the immensity and insanity of it all - monsters and giants brought to life in all their gigantic monstrosity; Orion and Hercules striding across the sky, limbs reaching for lightyears, only to be dwarfed by the likes of Draco, Pegasus, or Ursa Major. Then bigger still - Cetus, Eridanus, Ophiuchus, and Hydra, spanning nearly the whole of a hemisphere, sunk below the equator in that weird underworld of obscure southern formations. You try to take them in - the neck cranes, the eyes roll, and the mind boggles until this debilitating sense of inverted vertigo overcomes you...

I straightened up and shut my eyes, getting ready to start casting, and then had to push him off; he was trying to grab hold of my hand, which I needed rather urgently right then. "What are you doing?" I said, trying to get loose: he was being stupidly persistent about it. Yes, I really sincerely hadn't any idea: whatever was Orion doing, trying to hold hands with me in the moment of what he thought was his imminent demise, and then as soon as I spared it that much of a thought, the answer became so obvious that I felt like a complete idiot. "You are dating me?" I yelled at him, in a fury, and he turned around with his face screwed up in pinched determination and grabbed my face and kissed me. I kneed him with as much energy as the situation called for, since I also needed my voice, and then pushed him down to the floor so I could turn back to the onrushing fires and conjure up my own wall of mortal flame, just in time to put it around us as a firebreak.

The sky pulsed with stars. Some people say it makes them lonesome when they stare up at the night sky. I can't imagine why. There's no shortage of company. By now there's not a constellation I can't name. Orion. Lupus. Serpens. Hercules. Draco. My father taught me all of their stories. So when I look up I see a galaxy of adventures and heroes and villains, all jostling together and trying to outdo one another, and I sometimes want to tell them to hush up and not distract me with their chatter. I've glimpsed all the stars ever discovered by astronomers, and plenty that haven't been.

We lay side by side on the extension roof, hands behind our heads, elbows just touching. My head was still spinning a little, not unpleasantly, from the dancing and the wine. The breeze was warm across my face, and even through the city lights I could see constellations: the Big Dipper, Orion's Belt. The pine tree at the bottom of the garden rustled like the sea, ceaselessly. For a moment I felt as if the universe had turned upside down and we were falling softly into an enormous black bowl of stars and nocturne, and I knew, beyond any doubt, that everything was going to be all right.

For her next birthday she'd asked for a telescope. Her mother had been alive then, and had suggested a pony, but her father had laughed and bought her a beautiful telescope, saying: "Of course she should watch the stars! Any girl who cannot identify the constellation of Orion just isn't paying attention!" And when she started asking him complicated questions, he took her along to lectures at the Royal Society, where it turned out that a nine-year-old girl who had blond hair and knew what the precession of the equinoxes was could ask hugely bearded famous scientists anything she liked. Who'd want a pony when you could have the whole universe?

Between the roof of the shed and the big plant that hangs over the fence from the house next door I could see the constellation Orion. People say that Orion is called Orion because Orion was a hunter and the constellation looks like a hunter with a club and a bow and arrow, like this: But this is really silly because it is just stars, and you could join up the dots in any way you wanted, and you could make it look like a lady with an umbrella who is waving, or the coffeemaker which Mrs. Shears has, which is from Italy, with a handle and steam coming out, or like a dinosaur. And there aren't any lines in space, so you could join bits of Orion to bits of Lepus or Taurus or Gemini and say that they were a constellation called the Bunch of Grapes or Jesus or the Bicycle (except that they didn't have bicycles in Roman and Greek times, which was when they called Orion Orion). And anyway, Orion is not a hunter or a coffeemaker or a dinosaur. It is just Betelgeuse and Bellatrix and Alnilam and Rigel and 17 other stars I don't know the names of. And they are nuclear explosions billions of miles away. And that is the truth. I stayed awake until 5:47. That was the last time I looked at my watch before I fell asleep. It has a luminous face and lights up if you press a button, so I could read it in the dark. I was cold and I was frightened Father might come out and find me. But I felt safer in the garden because I was hidden. I looked at the sky a lot. I like looking up at the sky in the garden at night. In summer I sometimes come outside at night with my torch and my planisphere, which is two circles of plastic with a pin through the middle. And on the bottom is a map of the sky and on top is an aperture which is an opening shaped in a parabola and you turn it round to see a map of the sky that you can see on that day of the year from the latitude 51.5° north, which is the latitude that Swindon is on, because the largest bit of the sky is always on the other side of the earth. And when you look at the sky you know you are looking at stars which are hundreds and thousands of light-years away from you. And some of the stars don't even exist anymore because their light has taken so long to get to us that they are already dead, or they have exploded and collapsed into red dwarfs. And that makes you seem very small, and if you have difficult things in your life it is nice to think that they are what is called negligible, which means that they are so small you don't have to take them into account when you are calculating something. I didn't sleep very well because of the cold and because the ground was very bumpy and pointy underneath me and because Toby was scratching in his cage a lot. But when I woke up properly it was dawn and the sky was all orange and blue and purple and I could hear birds singing, which is called the Dawn Chorus. And I stayed where I was for another 2 hours and 32 minutes, and then I heard Father come into the garden and call out, "Christopher...? Christopher...?

They’re freaked out about Orion.” “After you’ve only been dating two months?” “We’re not dating!” Aadhya made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes heavenwards. “After you’ve been doing whatever you’re doing that is not dating but looks like dating to everyone else, for only two months.” “Thanks ever so,” I said dryly. “As far as I can tell, they’re shocked that he’s talking to another human being at all.” “To be fair, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who’d come up with the idea of being wildly rude and hostile to the guy who saved your life twenty times,” Aadhya said. I glared at her. “Thirteen times! And I’ve saved his life at least twice.” “Catch up already, girl,” she said unrepentantly.

looking enraptured while Orion murmured to me that their kind could step right into the pages of a story. They didn’t just see it in their head, they lived every word, the whole thing playing out in their minds as if they were the main character, and that sounded pretty awesome. It must have been incredible to experience your favourite books first hand, to fall so deeply between the pages that it seemed as if those worlds really existed. “Which book would you go into?” I asked Orion, brushing my fingers over the thick stubble on his jaw. “There is no story I would choose to live in but ours,” he answered simply, and damn this man to hell for his silver tongue. My heart all but packed up its bags and moved out of my chest to go and live in his instead. He already owned it that completely anyway.

Today is the winter solstice. The planet tilts just so to its star, lists and holds circling in a fixed tension between veering and longing, and spins helpless, exalted, in and out of that fleet blazing touch. Last night Orion vaulted and spread all over the sky, pagan and lunatic, his shoulder and knee on fire, his sword three suns at the ready-for what? I won’t see this year again, not again so innocent; and longing wrapped round my throat like a scarf. “For the Heavenly Father desires that we should see,” says Ruysbroeck, “and that is why He is ever saying to our inmost spirit one deep unfathomable word and nothing else.” But what is the word? Is this mystery or coyness? A cast-iron bell hung from the arch of my rib cage; when I stirred, it rang, or it tolled, a long syllable pulsing ripples up my lungs and down the gritty sap inside my bones, and I couldn’t make it out; I felt the voiced vowel like a sigh or a note but I couldn’t catch the consonant that shaped it into sense.

As a boy I slept in a meadow one night. It was summer and the sky was very clear. Before I fell asleep I saw Orion on the horizon, standing above the woods. Then I woke up in the middle of the night—and suddenly Orion was standing high above me. I have never forgotten that. I had learned that the earth is a planet and rotates; but I had learned it as one learns something from books and does not quite realize. But now, for the first time I felt that it really was like that. I felt that the earth was silently flying through the immensities of space. I felt it so strongly that I almost believed I had to hold onto something in order not to be hurled off. Probably it happened because, emerging from a deep sleep and bereft for a moment of memory and habit, I looked into the huge, displaced sky. Suddenly the earth was no longer firm—and since then it has never become wholly firm again—” He

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.