Aww. My cat missed me.

I just travelled for 20 hours straight yesterday, an experience about which I have only this to say: ugh.

But I finished re-reading Lolita, thus cementing its place in my heart as one of my very favorite pieces of literature in existence.. (though I don't really count those out of existence, too hard to discuss with other people, you know). It has inspired me to list some of my favorite final couple of lines of novels, short stories, etc.:

"I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita." Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov.

"And indeed, as he listened to the cries of joy rising from the town, Rieux remembered that such joy is always imperiled. He knew what those jubilant crowds did not know but could have learned from books: that the plague bacillus never dies or disappears for good; that it can lie dormant for years and years in furniture and linen-chests; that it bides its time in bedrooms, cellars, trunks, and bookshelves; and that perhaps the day would come when, for the bane and the enlightening of men, it would rouse up its rats again and send them forth to die in a happy city." The Plague, Albert Camus.

"There was the hum of bees, and the musty odor of pinks filled the air." The Awakening, Kate Chopin.

"Time is porous with forgetfulness. I myself am falsifying and losing, through the tragic erosion of the years, the features of Beatriz." "The Aleph," Jorge Luis Borges.

"Yossarian jumped. Nately's whore was hiding just outside the door. The knife came down, missing him by inches, and he took off." Catch-22, Joseph Heller.