Ali Smith

It is important to know the stories and histories of things, even if all we know is that we don't know.

Ali Smith

It is perhaps rather fine, after all, being dead. Highly underrated in the modern western world.

Ali Smith

It makes Brooke feel strange in her stomach. It is like the feeling when she reads a book like the one about the man with the bomb, or thinks a sentence, just any old sentence like: the girl ran across the park, and unless you add the describing word then the man or the girl are definitely not black, they are white, even though no one has mentioned white, like when you take the out of a headline and people just assume it's there anyway. Though if it were a sentence about Brooke herself you'd have to add the equivalent describing word and that's how you'd know. The black girl ran across the park.

Ali Smith

It's so warm it's almost friendly. A friendly work of art. I've never thought such a thing in my life. And look at it. It's never sentimental. It's generous, but it's sardonic too. And whenever it's sardonic, a moment later it's generous again.

Ali Smith

I wished that my own bones were unbound, I wished they were mingling, picked clean by fish, with the bones of another body, a body my bones and heart and soul had loved with unfathomable certainty for decades, and both of us down deep now, lost to everything but the fact of bare bones on a dark seabed.

Ali Smith

Maybe it's easier to talk to someone who won't ever actually hear what you say.

Ali Smith

My head, something happened to its insides. It was as if a storm at sea happened, but only for a moment, and only on the inside of my head. My rib cage, something definitely happened there. It was as if it unknotted itself from itself, like the hull of a ship hitting rock, giving way, and the ship that I was opened up inside me and in came the ocean. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life. But he looked really like a girl. She was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen in my life.

Ali Smith

Outside the leaves on the trees constricted slightly they were the deep-done green of the beginning of autumn. It was a Sunday in September. There would only be four. The clouds were high, and the swallows would be here for another month or so before they left for the south before they returned again next summer.

Ali Smith

She had not expected, out in the world, to find herself quite so much the wrong sort of person.

Ali Smith

She looked at the girl in the chair, and she saw what youth was. It was oblivious, with things in its ears.

Ali Smith

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