Saturday, December 25, 2010

The Reader


I have to leave too, and I'll walk with you.

It was more of she had withdrawn into her own body, and left it to itself and its own quiet rhythms, unbothered by any input from her mind, oblivious from the outside world.

But I had nothing else to occupy or distract me.

But they would lecture me with loving concern, which was worse than being scolded.

I had done things I had not decided to do.

Silencing my bad conscience...

Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily.

Is sadness what comes over us when beautiful memories shatter in hindsight because the remembered happiness fed not just on actual circumstances but on promise that was not kept?

When I see a woman of thirty six, I find her young. But when I see a boy of fifteen, I see a child.

From the outside it is impossible to tell if you are disowning someone or simply exercising discretion, being considerate, avoiding embarrassments and sources of irritation.

Juxtaposition of callousness and extreme sensitivity...

I recognized her but I felt nothing, nothing at all.

I saw myself functioning but inwardly, I felt no involvement.

There are matters one simply cannot get drawn into, that one must distance oneself from if the price is not life and limb.

Is it possible that when you say you knew, the most you can actually do is assume, and that when you say "believe" you are actually just making things up?

She had not allowed herself to be corrupted by self-pity or the self-confidence she had obviously drawn from the fact that she had survived.

Or as if it had been a conflict between two equally compelling duties that required action?

And if I was not guilty because one cannot be guilty of betraying a criminal, then I was guilty of having loved a criminal.

My father was undemonstrative, and could neither share his feelings with us children nor deal with the feelings we had for him.

If one knows what is good for another person who in turn is blind to it, then one must try to open his eyes. One has to leave him the last word, but one must talk to him and not to someone else behind his back.

He sounded as if he was being a little ironic but maybe it was just th tone of voice and the choice of words.

It would be too much to say I was happy about this. But I felt it was right.

Knowing what was going on didn't mean taking part.

There's no need to talk, because the truth of what one says lies in what one does.

Self-inflicted pressure to work and succeed.

My longing for Hannah became so strong that it hurt.

Whatever I had done or not done, whatever she had done or not to me--it was the path my life had taken

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