"Intelligent but inarticulate. Words betrayed her: beautiful butterflies in her mind; dead moths when she opened her mouth for their release into the world."
I, Lucifer by Glen Duncan
Duncan's word choice is simply excellent, it gives the reader vivid imagery and feeling. It's also the contrast that really catches my eye (Coming from someone with a blog named Wanderlust and Recluse, my affinity for contradictions and things that contrast should be evident). "Intelligent and inarticulate" and the "beautiful butterflies" juxtaposed with "dead moths," is beautiful.
I also can't help but feel a personal connection to this quote. Isn't that what all writers hope to do? Write to evoke emotion and make their readers feel a connection to what they are writing? I feel like everyone, at one point in time, has felt that they have ideas, but can't get them out in a way they wish. Sometimes they don't have the words or they are too shy to say what they think. This quote speaks to those unfortunate occurences in a way that isn't harsh or demeaning to the individual. Instead, Duncan places blame on the "words that betrayed her." If I were to have written this line, I would have replaced Duncan's blame on lack of words with blame on being shy.
My version of the quote would read:
"Intelligent but introverted. Fields resplendent with golden sunflowers in my brain, betrayed by a harsh desert that crept on the parameters and threatened the beautful existence, this doubt that was everpresent, dried up the life before it had a chance to show itself to the universe."
Emily, Rainy Day Rant
...or something like that, you get the idea.
I recently had a conversation with a friend about being a quiet person, something people don't usually understand. We are both creative individuals that think about things in a way more than most...but often, this characteristic of introverts tends to make people believe the person is indolent, stupid, and slow. We're both blondes, too, which sadly, doesn't help the situation. In physics class, I was accused of letting guys do the work for me, as I often partnered with a male student who happened to sit next to me. My friend was accused of turning in a paper that was "too good," and so the teacher thought it had to have been plagiarised. In both situations, we put in the effort and knew what we were doing, even though we didn't regularly raise our hands to answer questions, blurt out answers or like to speak in front of the class. We weren't empty airheads, we were just silently aware of our surroundings and thoughts. Given our quiet nature, some insolent teachers assumed we didn't have anything in our heads to say. In reality, we had "butterflies" or "fields resplendent with sunflowers" up there.