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nirix5“I knew it. Diamonds!” Her laugh is unattractive, a high beauty parlor giggle. “Diamonds are merely glorified coal. In heaven the angels will throw diamonds on the fire. And colored jewels are all vulgar. Baubles. They are all stones, and why would I want to wear stones? Do I look like I need to be weighed down? Am I going to float away? When I die, I will have enough stones on my chest, thank you. But pearls-”
...
“Pearls, yes. They have such a subtle beauty, so elegant. They grow. Little lives. They are a function of pain.”
“Pain.”
“Pain? Yes, pain. The oyster has delicate flesh. Easily hurt. When grit becomes lodged there, it wraps up the pain in pearl. It smoothes away the hurt. The pearl is a function of pain. But that must be part of it’s beauty, don’t you think?”
From The Love Of Stones, by Tobias Hill
...
“Pearls, yes. They have such a subtle beauty, so elegant. They grow. Little lives. They are a function of pain.”
“Pain.”
“Pain? Yes, pain. The oyster has delicate flesh. Easily hurt. When grit becomes lodged there, it wraps up the pain in pearl. It smoothes away the hurt. The pearl is a function of pain. But that must be part of it’s beauty, don’t you think?”
From The Love Of Stones, by Tobias Hill
