“Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form inself on the edge of consciousness.”
“Oh, Lillian. Trying to make order of the chaos that is love is like trying to figure out why chocolate ice cream makes your toes curl.”
“The edge of a colossal jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed with white surf, ran straight, like a ruled line, far, far, away along blue sea whose glitter was blurred by a creeping mist.”
“His thin accusation hung thick in the air like fog smoking a cigarette.”
“Seabird tracks scattered about the surf's edge like pine needles after a brisk wind.”
“Thinking is only a small aspect of consciousness. Thought cannot exist without consciousness, but consciousness does not need thought”