Ronnie McGillicuddy Quotes in Old God’s Time
He hadn’t been obliged to shoot his rifle for many many years. There seemed to be a component of light also in this scope that he couldn’t see the origin of. There were the cormorants right in front of his nose, it seemed like, and the very barnacles on the black rocks, and the heavy skirts of dark brown seaweed, shrugging in the late tide. It had an aspect cold and wild. The cormorants looked like they had been carved violently out of the dark rocks. He wondered what it would be like to pull the trigger softly, ease his index finger through the small arc of it, and peg a bullet into a breast, and watch the bird fall, far far off and yet so near. But he knew in his heart he would never pull the trigger.
He had the wild sense that, despite the tyranny of dates and time, she was there, not in memory but really, and he was careful not to open those eyes. He knew the second he did so he would be gone. […] They were both away with the fairies and June was alive, she was alive, beautiful and wise, and she would always be there, bursting with life, calm as any old painted Madonna, as long as he did not open his eyes. He lifted both his hands and reached out to hold that longed-for face. To hold it, the soft cheeks, the dark skin, to hold it, to hold it.
Ronnie McGillicuddy Quotes in Old God’s Time
He hadn’t been obliged to shoot his rifle for many many years. There seemed to be a component of light also in this scope that he couldn’t see the origin of. There were the cormorants right in front of his nose, it seemed like, and the very barnacles on the black rocks, and the heavy skirts of dark brown seaweed, shrugging in the late tide. It had an aspect cold and wild. The cormorants looked like they had been carved violently out of the dark rocks. He wondered what it would be like to pull the trigger softly, ease his index finger through the small arc of it, and peg a bullet into a breast, and watch the bird fall, far far off and yet so near. But he knew in his heart he would never pull the trigger.
He had the wild sense that, despite the tyranny of dates and time, she was there, not in memory but really, and he was careful not to open those eyes. He knew the second he did so he would be gone. […] They were both away with the fairies and June was alive, she was alive, beautiful and wise, and she would always be there, bursting with life, calm as any old painted Madonna, as long as he did not open his eyes. He lifted both his hands and reached out to hold that longed-for face. To hold it, the soft cheeks, the dark skin, to hold it, to hold it.