“So I walked into their room in the navy blue middle of the night in summertime and listened to them breathing.” — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“She was beaten to death, I once told some boys at a party. Oh shit mate, they said. I lie about how you died,… — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“I missed her so much that I wanted to build a hundred-foot memorial to her with my bare hands. I wanted to see her sitting in a vast stone chair in Hyde Park, enjoying her view. Everybody passing could comprehend how much I miss her. How physical my missing is. I miss her so much it is a vast golden… — Max Porter Copy Share
“...we were different boys, we were brave new boys without a Mum. So when he told us what happened I don't know what my brother was thinking but I was thinking this: Where are the fire engines? Where is the noise and clamour of an event like this? Where are the strangers going out of their way to help, screaming,… — Max Porter Copy Share
“We will never fight again, our lovely, quick, template-ready arguments. Our delicate cross-stitch of bickers.” — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“The bell rang again. I climbed down the carpeted stairs into the chilly hallway and opened the front door. There were no streetlights, bins or paving stones. No shape or light, no form at all, just a stench. There was a crack and a whoosh and I was smacked back, winded, onto the doorstep. The hallway was pitch black and… — Max Porter Copy Share
“But I care, deeply. I find humans dull except in grief. There are very few in health, disaster, famine, atrocity, splendour or normality that… — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“I felt it would be years before the knotted-string dream of other people’s performances of woe for my dead wife would thin enough for… — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“I plucked one feather from my hood and left it on his forehead, for, his, head. For a souvenir, for a warning, for a… — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“Ghosts do not haunt, they regress. Just as when you need to go to sleep you think of trees or lawns, you are taking… — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“Grief felt fourth-dimensional, abstract, faintly familiar. I was cold.” — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“So I walked into their room in the navy blue middle of the night in summertime and listened to them breathing.” — Max Porter Copy Share Image
“It is everything. It is the fabric of selfhood, and beautifully chaotic. It shares mathematical characteristics with many natural forms.” — Max Porter Copy Share Image
