È impeccabile il modo in cui la verità può essere brutale, a volte. Non si può che ammirarla. Di solito ce ne andiamo in giro tentando di convincere noi stessi: sto bene, diciamo. è tutto ok. Ma a vol...
È impeccabile il modo in cui la verità può essere brutale, a volte. Non si può che ammirarla.
¿Qué he hecho?, no dejaba de musitar. [...] Le hubiera gustado consolarlo, pero nunca había visto a un hombre tan deshecho.
«Tu sei il mio migliore amico, Ed».«Lo so.»Si può uccidere un uomo con una frase come questa.
«Certo che sei reale», leggo, «come lo è qualunque pensiero, qualunque storia. Diventa tutto reale quando tu ci sei dentro.»
Was January 1939.
To the brute strength of the man’s gentleness, his thereness.
She was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.
Moon was sewn into the sky that night. Clouds were stitched around it.
Moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.
It didn’t really matter what that book was about. It was what it meant that was more important.
He was exercising his God-given right to stupidity.
He tried not to look back as the stale bread disintegrated in his stomach. A few times, he shifted again and watched the lights become only a handful
And it feels good to be good for something in the aftermath of the snows of Stalingrad
An expression of surprise falls from her face, though she's trying to keep it. it breaks off and she seems to catch it and fidget with it in her hands.
[P]ersonally, I don't think you want to argue with me. A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT Please be calm, despite that previous threat, I am all bluster- I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.
You see? Even death has a heart.
You can do all manner of underhanded nice things when you have a caustic reputation. It worked.
You bastards, she thought.You lovely bastards.Don’t make me happy. Please, don’t fill me up and let me think that something good can come of any of this. Look at my bruises. Look at this graze. Do you...
Yet each day, he managed to unravel and straighten himself, disgusted and thankful. Wrecked, but somehow not torn into pieces.