Just to set the record straight, envy is not green. And rage isn’t red hot, and the blues have nothing to do with blue. Envy is more dust colored, a transparent sort of gray. It quivers, like heat rising. Rage itself is not any shade of red – it’s not any color at all. It’s a smell, like fried-up fish. Melancholy? The blues? Melancholy’s more of a shimmer than any color. And it creeps: blues on the move.
This quote makes more sense when you read the book. But alone, I find it mesmerizing.
