But silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words. Without them they grown pale, sicken and die. And then they haunt you.
For me to see is to read. It has always been that way.
As for you, you are alive. But it’s not the same as living.
Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother, but the rest of the time there was none. This story is about one of those other times.
Sometimes when you open the door to the past, what you confront is your destiny.
Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Familes are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.
We all have our sorrows, and although the exact delinaments, weight and dimensions of grief are different for everyone, the color of grief is common to us all. I know, he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.
What better place to kill time than a library? And for me, what better way to get to know someone than through her choice and treatment of books?
I looked out into the dead garden. Against the fading light, my shadow hovered in the glass, looking into the dead room. What did she make of us? I wondered. What did she think of our attempts to persuade ourselves that this was life and that we were really living it?
Rebuilt in Victorian times, it retained the modesty of its medieval origins. Small and neat, its spire indicated the direction of heaven without trying to pierce a hole in it.
Kita semua memiliki kesedihan kita sendiri, dan walaupun kontur, bobot, serta dimensinya berbeda-beda bagi setiap orang, warna kesedihan adalah sama bagi kita semua.
After a great many questions I eventually ascertained that he is suffering from some kind of disorder of the mind. Is there anything more sorrowful than a brain whose proper function has been disrupted?
Kita hidup seperti penonton yang datang terlambat ke bioskop: kita harus mengejar ketertinggalan sebaik-baiknya, menebak permulaan dari bentuk peristiwa-peristiwa lanjutannya.
Silence is not a natural environment for stories. They need words.
We live like latecomers to the theater; we must catch up as best we can, divining the begging from the shape of later events.
In speech he stretched out his vowel sounds to give his mouth a rest before the next consonant.
Politeness. Being nice is what’s left when you’ve failed at everything else.
L’appetit vient en mangeant. Appetite comes by eating. Your appetite will come back, but it must be met halfway. You must want it to come.
They were like amputees, only it was not a limb they were missing, but their very souls.
They stood in silence, looking at floorboards and corners of cornices and other such insignificances, their curiosity and compassion at the ready. They were waiting so hard that when the door cracked and Bellman appeared, they jumped.