under the blanket

"Finally he spoke the three simple words that no amount of bad art or bad faith can ever quite cheapen. She repeated them, with exactly the same slight emphasis on the second word, as though she were the one to say them first."

Finished reading two books over the weekend. One was a piece of trashy writing with a title so cheesy I can't even recall it. The other was so sublime that I mentally kicked myself for putting off reading it until now. Atonement by Ian McEwan is a masterpiece that burns slowly with each voluptuous sentence. I regret racing through it instead of savouring every turn of the page.