Reddit reviews Pale Horse, Pale Rider (HBJ Modern Classic)
We found 1 Reddit comments about Pale Horse, Pale Rider (HBJ Modern Classic). Here are the top ones, ranked by their Reddit score.
Silenced, Miranda sank easily through deeps upon deeps of darkness, until she lay like a stone at the farthest bottom of life, knowing herself to be blind, deaf, speechless, no longer aware of the members of her own body, entirely withdrawn from all human concerns, yet alive with a peculiar lucidity and coherence. All notions of the mind, the reasonable inquiries of doubt, all ties of blood and desires of the heart, dissolved and fell away from her, and there remained only a minute, fiercely burning particle of being that knew itself alone, that relied upon nothing beyond itself for its strength, not susceptible to any appeal or inducement, being itself composed entirely of one single motive, the stubborn will to live.
This fiery, motionless particle set itself unaided to resist destruction, to survive, and to be in its own madness of being, motiveless and planless, beyond that one essential end. She felt, without warning, a vague tremor of apprehension, some small flick of distrust in her joy. A thin frost touched the edges of this confident tranquility. Something, somebody was missing. She'd lost something. She had left something valuable in another country. What could it be?
'There are no trees, no trees here,' she said in fright. 'I've left something unfinished.' A thought struggled at the back of her mind, came clearly as a voice in her ear. 'Where are the dead? We've forgotten the dead. The dead, where are they?' At once, as if a curtain had fallen, the bright landscape faded. She was alone in a strange stony place of bitter cold, picking her way along a steep path of slippery snow, calling out, 'Oh I must go back. But in what direction?'
Pain returned, a terrible compelling pain, running through her veins like heavy fire. The stench of corruption filled her nostrils. The sweetish, sickening smell of rotting flesh and pus. She opened her eyes and saw pale light through a coarse white cloth over her face, and she knew that the smell of death was in her own body, and she struggled to lift her hand."
Pale Horse, Pale Rider - Katherine Anne Porter (who almost died from 1918 flu)