What had survived - maybe all that had survived of Trism - was Liir's sense of him. A catalog of impressions that arose from time to time, unbidden and often upsetting. From the sandy smell of his sandy hair to the locked grip of his muscles as they had wrestled in sensuous aggression - unwelcome nostalgia. Trism lived in Liir's heart like a full suit of clothes in a wardrobe, dress habillards maybe, hollow and real at once. The involuntary memory of the best of Trism's glinting virtues sometimes kicked up unquietable spasms of longing.

Summary

This quote reflects on the enduring impact that someone named Trism has had on Liir. Although Trism is no longer physically present, Liir carries memories of him that resurface occasionally, often causing discomfort. These memories are vivid and sensorial, ranging from the smell of Trism's hair to the strength of his touch. Trism's essence lingers in Liir's heart like a collection of clothes, both empty and tangible. The recollection of Trism's admirable qualities occasionally evokes strong waves of longing that cannot be easily quelled.

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