Another wonderful, indescribable book by Colson Whitehead.
". . . 'eccentric' being a word, Lila Mae notes dryly, that white people use to describe crazy white people of stature." Pg. 83
"She has not seen any of the other guests but can imagine them. The city's tidal forces wash the weak-treading citizens out here, to the edge to pitiless crags like the Friendly League Residence. Old men in gray clothes with beards like dead grass, stooped and shuffling. The alibiless. Jagged coughing haunted the halls last night, stealing out of multiple rooms, a sodden death-chorus." Pg. 185
"It's all bright and all the weight and cares you have been shedding are no longer weight and cares but brightness. Even the darkness of the shaft is gone because there is no disagreement between you and the shaft. How an you breathe when you no longer have lungs? The question does not perturb, that last plea of rationality has fallen away floors ago, with the earth. No time, no time for one last thought, what was the last thing I thought last night before i fell asleep, the very last thought, what was it, because before you can think that thought everything is bright and you have fallen away in the perfect elevator." Pg 223
"That she was a citizen of the city to come and that the frail devices she had devoted her life to were weak and would all fall one day like Number Eleven. All of them, plummeting down the shafts like beautiful dead stars." Pg 255
Book 72
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