She felt a nausea of the soul, a hideous and sickening despair, a melancholy weariness so profound that she was going to die of it. Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth.
Thus she stood, bow in hand, indifferent, dead in life.
--
Dying thoughts of Lena Feldt as a Specter "eats the life out of her", Ch. 15 : Blood mossPhilip Pullman
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Pullman, Philip
Pulteney, William
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