“When Blue sang, a lyric became a libation; a song became a sacrament.”
“Death left its old tragic heaven and became the lyrical core of man: his invisible truth, his visible secret.”
“It wasn't that Nanny Ogg sang badly. It was just that she could hit notes which, when amplified by a tin bath half full of water, ceased to be sound and became some sort of invasive presence.”
“When I was drowning, she became my air. In the cold, she became my warmth. In the dark, she became my light.”
“And when gods touched something, the normal became the supernatural, the simple became the wondrous.”
“Airport blue haunted me. It became a brand to me, a trademark of our broken relationship, and my failure to move on. Airport fucking blue.”