There was a marvelous, dark lyricism in his voice, the kind of defiance that is rooted in deep loneliness.

Lothaire is very much alive.” “You swear?” “Often. Though not as much as foul-mouthed Regin. I try not to in front of Bertil.” She petted the bat. “I meant—will Lothaire live?” “He will.

To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing."--Dominique Francon

The dead man is on the trolley and the woman collapses across his chest. That's what the ghouls want a shufti at, like at that Princess Diana's funeral, they want to scrutinise those who really knew her, to drink the misery out of their faces.

Written By Irvine Welsh

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