#“you wore chitons?’’ ‘‘yes’’ said Henry irritated

[miroana]

the secret history was really a story of fatal flaws, hedonistic haze (charles woke up inside a plastic snail), bacchanal in the woods, glorification of the picturesque (hold up, humans landed on the moon?), an elaborate murder plot, hubris and vanity (“say, what’s wrong with this type?” “triple spaced it”), pretentious aphrodisiacs, attempts at losing oneself completely (loudly kills a bee with a bible at the funeral of a recently murdered friend), utter obsession with the aesthetic—

#god I love Donna Tartt #I was rolling on the floor reading the section about bunny’s essay on metahemeralism #richard’s favorite book being the great gatsby bc he sees himself as gatsby #sir you are nick carraway #“you wore chitons?’’ ‘‘yes’’ said Henry irritated #(pretend there’s commas lol) #like thank you donna that’s hilarious #as a pretentious college student I’m the target audience for this humor #the secret history #tsh #dark academia #richard papen #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #henry winter #bunny corcoran

[betryl]

Some random Henry moments and quotes that I really like (in no particular order):

Henry winked solemnly at her from across the table.

Many times, I've seen Henry pick up the telephone with an irritable, cautious 'Hello,' and may I never forget the harsh and irresistible delight of his 'Khairei!' when Julian happened to be on the other end.

"Some little place I've got here, huh?" I said, and laughed. He glanced up at the hole in the ceiling. "Yes," he said brusquely. "Like the Pantheon."

"Reason is always apparent to a discerning eye. But luck? It's invisible, erratic, angelic."

"Anything might happen, Francis. He might be hit by a car tonight, and save us all a lot of trouble."

"You wore chitons?" "Yes," said Henry, irritated. "It was all in the sake of science."

But that came to a quick end when Henry, who was very nearsighted, shot and killed a duck by mistake. He was quite shaken by it and we put the pistol away.

Henry took a deep breath. Then he closed his eyes; and exhaling sharply, a hand to his chest, he fell back in his chair as if he'd been shot.

"Who is it?" "Henry." "Tell him I'm in the bath." "He's in the bath," I said. "He is not in the bath," Henry said. "He is standing in the room with you. I can hear him."

"I haven't eaten anything in three days." Henry marked his place with a ribbon and slipped the book in his breast pocket. "Well," he said amiably, "go get a doughnut, then." "I don't have any money." "I'll give you the money, then." "I don't want a goddamn doughnut."

[...] the armchair in which Henry sat, motionless, a glass in his hand and the cigarette burning low between his fingers. For a moment his face, pale and watchful as a ghost's, would be caught in the headlights and then, very gradually, it would slide back into the dark.

"Anything is grand if it's done on a large enough scale."

Henry glanced up. "Salve, amice," he said, and a subtle animation flickered in his rigid features, usually so locked up, and distant: "Valesne? Quid est rei?" "You look well," I said to him, and he did. He inclined his head slightly. His eyes, which had been murky and dilated while he was ill, were now the clearest of blues. "Benigne dicis," he said. "I feel much better."

#the secret history #tsh #henry winter #bunny corcoran #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #francis abernathy #richard papen #oh i love him so much