Talking to Ourselves

Companionship isn't about experiencing the great moments together. True companionship is the other stuff. Sharing a sincere doing nothing.

Cuando un libro me dice lo que yo quería decir, siento el derecho a apropiarme de sus palabras, como si alguna vez hubieran sido mías y estuviera recuperándolas

I'm afraid there are two kinds of alienation: one is the exploited worker's, the other that of the worker on holiday. The first has no time to think. The second can only think, and that is his sentence.

Women who know what they want never want anything interesting.

when I was young I was a night owl, I liked doing things while everyone was asleep, I felt untouchable, as you get older you become a lark, you start to worry about being late for things, night owls think they’re stealing a march on everything, but the moment they wake up they’re already running late, since I got sick I don’t like the morning so much, it’s, I don’t know, too loaded with expectations, and the silence of the night scares me, I prefer the afternoon now, it’s less demanding, so I’m watching the sun go down, and I start to wonder, you see, where, where the hell does beauty comes from?,

A vocation is a never-ending mission. In other words, a refined way of avoiding the unknown.

..when questioned about their favorite techniques or their best loved authors, writers will talk incessantly, in the same way the sick become particularly garrulous when we inquire after their ailments; the difference being that writers can't help talking about something that saves them, whereas the sick can't help talking about the thing that is dragging them under.

Some men are brilliant talkers, I've met many like that. But almost none of them know when to be silent. Most of my female friends confuse the tough guys with the silent types. I think that's a movie myth. The worst examples of male aggression I've come across have been intolerably verbal.

... I to je bilo ono nepopravljivo. Gotovo jednako kao to što sam nekoliko puta napisala "Bože moj". Ja, ovakva nevjernica supijana.

Bringing up a child and caring for a sick person have this in common: both require an energy that is not really yours. You are instilled with it by them, by their eager love, their expectant fear. And they clamor for it as though scenting fresh meat. I sometimes feel that motherhood is a black hole. Whatever you put in is never enough, and you’ve no idea where it goes. At other times, though, I feel like a vampire feeding off her own child. Devouring his enthusiasm in order to carry on believing in life.

Me pregunto si, quizá sin darnos cuenta, vamos buscando los libros que necesitamos leer. O si los propios libros, que son seres inteligentes, detectan a sus lectores y se hacen notar. En el fondo todo libro es el I Ching. Vas, lo abres y ahí está, ahí estás.