Goodbye to Berlin

I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking. Recording the man shaving at the window opposite and the woman in the kimono washing her hair. Some day, all this will have to be developed, carefully printed, fixed.

But seriously, I believe I'm a sort of Ideal Woman, if you know what I mean. I'm the sort of woman who can take men away from their wives, but I could never keep anybody for long. And that's because I'm the type which every man imagines he wants, until he gets me; and then he finds he doesn't really, after all.

...I have had an unpleasant feeling, such as one has in a dream, that I myself do not exist.

I could never keep anybody for long. And that's because I'm the type which every man imagines he wants, until he gets me; and then he finds he doesn't really, after all.

The really destructive feature of their relationship is its inherent quality of boredom. It is quite natural for Peter often to feel bored with Otto - they have scarecely a single interest in common - but Peter, for sentimental reasons, will never admit that this is so. When Otto, who has no such motives for pretending, says, "It's so dull here!" I invariably see Peter wince and looked pained. Yet Otto is actually far less often bored than Peter himself; he finds Peter's company genuinely amusing, and is quite glad to be with him most of the day. Often, when Otto has been chattering rubbish for an hour without stopping, I can see that Peter really longs for him to be quiet and go away. But to admit this would be, in Peter's eyes, a total defeat, so he only laughs and rubs his hands, tacitly appealing to me to support him in his pretense of finding Otto inexhaustibly delightful and funny.

All women like men to be strong and decided and following out their careers. A woman wants to be motherly to a man and protect his weak side, but he must have a strong side too, which she can respect ... If you ever care for a woman, I don't advise you to let her see that you've got no ambition. Otherwise she'll get to despise you.

No. Even now I can't altogether believe that any of this really happened...

İkimiz de güldük. "Sally" dedim, "senin sevdiğim yanın ne biliyor musun? Bu kadar kolayca kandırılabilmen. Hiç kandırılamayan insanlar öylesine can sıkıcı ve ruhsuz oluyorlar ki!" "Beni hâlâ seviyor musun, Chris, sevgilim?" "Evet, Sally. Seni hâlâ seviyorum." Onu bir daha görmedim. Yaklaşık iki hafta sonra, tam onu aramam gerektiğini düşündüğüm bir sırada, Paris'ten bir kart aldım: "Buraya dün gece geldim. Yarın doğru dürüst yazarım. Kucak dolusu sevgiler." Arkadan mektup gelmedi. Bundan bir ay sonra Roma'dan bir kart daha aldım. Adres yoktu: "Bir iki güne kadar yazarım." diyordu. Bu altı yıl önceydi. Şimdi ben ona yazıyorum. Sally, bunu okuduğun zaman -eğer bir gün okuyacak olursan- lütfen bunu bir takdirname- sana verebileceğim en yürekten takdirname olarak kabul et...

Everything in the room is like that: unnecessarily solid, abnormally heavy and dangerously sharp.

You, Christopher, with your centuries of Anglo-Saxon freedom behind you, with your Magna Carta engraved upon your heart, cannot understand that we poor barbarians need the stiffness of a uniform to keep us standing upright.

The Nazis may write like schoolboys, but they're capable of anything. That's just why they're so dangerous. People laugh at them, right up to the last moment...

I like hearing the sound of your voice, but I don’t care a bit what you’re saying.