Horrific as it was, the present dark, I was afraid to leave it for the other, permanent dark - jelly and bloat, the muddy pit. I had seen the shadow of it on Bunny's face - stupid terror; the whole world opening upside down; his life exploding in a thunder of crows and the sky expanding empty over his stomach like a white ocean. Then nothing. Rotten stumps, sowbugs crawling in the fallen leaves. Dirt and dark.Donna Tartt, The Secret History (London: Penguin, 1992), 551.
