“Kijk,' zei zijn moeder. Ze stond voor het gasstel en wees achter zich op het aanrecht. 'Bedoel je die fles?' vroeg hij. Er stond een fles met donkerrode vloeistof. Op de hals zat een oranje capsule. Hij trad naderbij. 'Wat is dat?' vroeg hij. 'Ik heb een fles wijn gekocht voor vanavond ,' antwoordde ze, een aantal oliebollen uit de braadpan wippend. 'Dat is prachtig,' zei Frits. Hij nam de fles bij de hals op. Er zat een blauw etiket op met een gele rand. 'Bessen-appel,' las hij zacht. 'Bessen-appel,' zei hij bij zichzelf, 'bessen-appel. Help ons, eeuwige, onze God. Zie onze nood. Uit de diepten roepen wij tot u. Verschrikkelijk.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Ik adem, en ik beweeg, dus ik leef. Is dat duidelijk? Welke beproevingen ook komen, ik leef.'
Hij zoog de borst vol adem en stapte in bed. 'Het is gezien,' mompelde hij, 'het is niet onopgemerkt gebleven.' Hij strekte zich uit en viel in een diepe slaap.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Laten we ons nergens wat van aantrekken en op de gewone tijd gaan eten.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Er staan boterhammen voor je in het buffet,' zei zijn moeder. 'Dank je wel,' zei hij. Ze schakelde de radio in. 'Geen landbouw, geen veeteelt, geen slechte muziek, geen geoudehoer,' zei Frits. geen walsen van Strauss, geen illustratieve muziek. Laat alleen het allerbeste doorkomen. Toon, desnoods een gebrekkige, maar vooruitstrevende smaak.' 'Ik krijg er hoofdpijn bij,' dacht hij.
'Je bent niet aleen in huis,' zei ze. 'Je moet ook eens aan iemand anders denken. Het wordt tijd, dat je eens met anderen rekening houdt.' De radio was warm geworden en begon geluid te geven. 'Ik ben zo alleen en denk steeds aan jou,' zong een tenor. Zijn vader draaide de knop naar links, maar juist nog niet uit. Men kon horen, dat er gezongen werd, maar verder niets onderscheiden. 'Zo wordt het toestel gesmoord,' dacht Frits, kwam naderbij en zocht de schaal af. Tenslotte draaide hij de knop af.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Om negen uur, toen het goed licht was geworden, werd hij wakker. 'De tweede dag van Christus is aangebroken,' dacht hij. 'Het is vrijwel zeker,' zei hij hardop, toen hij de hemel boven de huizen bekeek, 'dat het helder, droog weer wordt. Laat ik niet te lang blijven liggen.' ...
'Het lijkt wel.' zei hij zacht, de radio inschakelend en aan het raam tredend 'of de zon doorkomt.' U hoort thans de cantate voor de tweede kerstdag van Johan Sebastiaan Bach,' zei de omroeper. Frits stelde het toestel zuiver af, holde naar zijn slaapkamer, kwam met zijn shagdoos terug en rolde, op de divan gezeten, zo snel een sigaret, dat hij deze kon aansteken op het ogenblik, dat het onregelmatige geraas van het stemmen van de muziekinstrumenten had opgehouden. ' Nu ben ik gelukkig, ' zei hij hardop en grinnikte.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Godverdomme,' zei hij, 'gooi iemand anders wat op zijn poten.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Men kan weg moeten, zonder dat men ergens heen moet. Dat zijn de gevallen, dat men ergens vandaan moet.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“Het dooreen mengen van een zorgvuldig toebereide maaltijd geldt als een belediging van degene, die hem heeft gekookt [...]”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“The body needs to be thrown out of equilibrium from time to time, it needs a good poisoning.”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
“It is no disaster to be unhappy but how discouraging it must be to know that there is nothing to pin the blame on, outside oneself?”
― Gerard Reve, quote from De avonden
Gerard Reve
Born place: in Amsterdam, Netherlands
Born date December 14, 1923
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“Happiness is endless hapiness, innocent of its own sure passing. Pain is endless pain.”
― Tobias Wolff, quote from This Boy's Life
“Is there a bird among them, dear boy?” Charity asked innocently, peering not at the things on the desk, but at his face, noting the muscle beginning to twitch at Ian’s tense jaw.
“No.”
“Then they must be in the schoolroom! Of course,” she said cheerfully, “that’s it. How like me, Hortense would say, to have made such a silly mistake.”
Ian dragged his eyes from the proof that his grandfather had been keeping track of him almost from the day of his birth-certainly from the day when he was able to leave the cottage on his own two legs-to her face and said mockingly, “Hortense isn’t very perceptive. I would say you are as wily as a fox.”
She gave him a little knowing smile and pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell her, will you? She does so enjoy thinking she is the clever one.”
“How did he manage to have these drawn?” Ian asked, stopping her as she turned away.
“A woman in the village near your home drew many of them. Later he hired an artist when he knew you were going to be somewhere at a specific time. I’ll just leave you here where it’s nice and quiet.” She was leaving him, Ian knew, to look through the items on the desk. For a long moment he hesitated, and then he slowly sat down in the chair, looking over the confidential reports on himself. They were all written by one Mr. Edgard Norwich, and as Ian began scanning the thick stack of pages, his anger at his grandfather for this outrageous invasion of his privacy slowly became amusement. For one thing, nearly every letter from the investigator began with phrases that made it clear the duke had chastised him for not reporting in enough detail. The top letter began,
I apologize, Your Grace, for my unintentional laxness in failing to mention that indeed Mr. Thornton enjoys an occasional cheroot…
The next one opened with,
I did not realize, Your Grace, that you would wish to know how fast his horse ran in the race-in addition to knowing that he won.
From the creases and holds in the hundreds of reports it was obvious to Ian that they’d been handled and read repeatedly, and it was equally obvious from some of the investigator’s casual comments that his grandfather had apparently expressed his personal pride to him:
You will be pleased to know, Your Grace, that young Ian is a fine whip, just as you expected…
I quite agree with you, as do many others, that Mr. Thornton is undoubtedly a genius…
I assure you, Your Grace, that your concern over that duel is unfounded. It was a flesh wound in the arm, nothing more.
Ian flipped through them at random, unaware that the barricade he’d erected against his grandfather was beginning to crack very slightly.
“Your Grace,” the investigator had written in a rare fit of exasperation when Ian was eleven,
“the suggestion that I should be able to find a physician who might secretly look at young Ian’s sore throat is beyond all bounds of reason. Even if I could find one who was willing to pretend to be a lost traveler, I really cannot see how he could contrive to have a peek at the boy’s throat without causing suspicion!”
The minutes became an hour, and Ian’s disbelief increased as he scanned the entire history of his life, from his achievements to his peccadilloes. His gambling gains and losses appeared regularly; each ship he added to his fleet had been described, and sketches forwarded separately; his financial progress had been reported in minute and glowing detail.”
― Judith McNaught, quote from Almost Heaven
“I have no time for babbling foolishness.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” said Victor. “There’s always time for babbling.”
― Eoin Colfer, quote from Airman
“Music (is) woven into the fabric of the corporeal world.”
― Kate Mosse, quote from Sepulchre
“MAMA: You must not dislike people ’cause they well off, honey.
BENEATHA: Why not? It makes just as much sense as disliking people ’cause they are poor, and lots of people do that.”
― Lorraine Hansberry, quote from A Raisin in the Sun
Lion of Macedon
Holiday in Death
One, No One and One...
Rules
My Sweet Audrina
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