“It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as somebody loves you.”
“She might even be your lovely school-teacher who is reading these words to you at this very moment. Look carefully at that teacher. Perhaps she is smiling at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Don't let that put you off. It could be part of cleverness.
I am not, of course, telling you for one second that your teacher actually is a witch. All I am saying is that she might be one. It is most unlikely. But--here comes the big "but"--not impossible.”
“My darling," she said at last, are you sure you don't mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?"
"I don't mind at all" I said.
It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like as long as somebody loves you.”
“It is most unlikely. But--here comes the big "but"--not impossible.”
“You can write about anything for children as long as you've got humour.”
“Mice, I felt pretty certain, all like each other. People don't.”
“You are still yourself in everything except your appearance. You've still got your own mind and your own brain and your own voice, and thank goodness for that.”
“An idiotic vitch like you
Must rrroast upon the barbecue!”
“How long does a mouse live?"
"Ah," she said. "I've been waiting for you to ask me that."
There was a silence. She sat there smoking away and gazing at the fire.
"Well," I said. "How long do we live, us mice?"
"I have been reading about mice," she said. "I have been trying to find out everything I can about them."
"Go on then, Grandmamma. Why don't you tell me?"
"If you really want to know," she said, "I'm afraid a mouse doesn't live for a very long time."
"How long?" I asked.
"Well, an ordinary mouse only lives for about three years," she said. "But you are not an ordinary mouse. You are a mouse-person, and that is a very different matter."
"How different?" I asked. "How long does a mouse-person live, Grandmamma?"
"Longer," she said. "Much longer."
"A mouse-person will almost certainly live for three times as long as an ordinary mouse," my grandmother said. "About nine years."
"Good!" I cried. "That's great! It's the best news I've ever had!"
"Why do you say that?" she asked, surprised.
"Because I would never want to live longer than you," I said. "I couldn't stand being looked after by anybody else."
There was a short silence. She had a way of fondling me behind the ears with the tip of one finger. It felt lovely.
"How old are you, Grandmamma?" I asked.
"I'm eighty-six," she said.
"Will you live another eight or nine years?"
"I might," she said. "With a bit of luck."
"You've got to," I said. "Because by then I'll be a very old mouse and you'll be a very old grandmother and soon after that we'll both die together."
"That would be perfect," she said.”
“In fairy-tales, witches always wear silly black hats and black cloaks, and they ride on broomsticks. But this is not a fairy-tale. This is about REAL WITCHES. The most important thing you should know about REAL WITCHES is this. Listen very carefully. Never forget what is coming next.”
“Aren't I going back to England?"
"No," she said. "I Could never do that. Heaven shall take my soul, but Norway shall keep my bones".”
“It doesn't matter who you are or what you like so long as somebody loves you”
“She sat there majestic in her armchair, filling every inch of it. Not even a mouse could have squeezed in to sit beside her.”
“It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like as long as somebody loves you.”
“Children should never have baths,’ my grandmother said. ‘It's a dangerous
habit.’
‘I agree, Grandmamma.”
“Down vith children! Do them in!
Boil their bones and fry their skin!
Bish them, sqvish them, bash them, mash them!
Brrreak them, shake them, slash them, smash them!
Offer chocs vith magic powder!
Say “Eat up!” then say it louder.
Crrram them full of sticky eats,
Send them home still guzzling sveets.
And in the morning little fools
Go marching off to separate schools.
A girl feels sick and goes all pale.
She yells, “Hey look! I've grrrown a tail!”
A boy who's standing next to her
Screams, “Help! I think I'm grrrowing fur!”
Another shouts, “Vee look like frrreaks!
There's viskers growing on our cheeks!”
A boy who vos extremely tall
Cries out, “Vot's wrong? I'm grrrowing small!”
Four tiny legs begin to sprrrout
From everybody rrround about.
And all at vunce, all in a trrrice,
There are no children! Only MICE!”
“Da igual quién seas o qué aspecto tengas mientras alguien te quiera.”
“My darling,’ she said at last, ‘are you sure you don’t mind being a mouse for the rest of your life?’ ‘I don’t mind at all,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you.”
“- I am a mouse! You wait till my father hears about this!
- He may think it's an improvement.”
“Няма значение кой си и как изглеждаш, ако има някой, който да те обича истински.”
“black suit arrived at the house carrying a brief-case, and he held a long conversation with my grandmother in the”
“squeezing her feet into those neat little pointed shoes.”
“REAL WITCHES dress in ordinary clothes and look very much like ordinary women. They live in ordinary houses and they work in ORDINARY JOBS. That”
“It doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you.”
“It doesn't matter who are are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you.”
“doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you.”
“But this is not a fairy-tale. This is about REAL WITCHES.”
“Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.”
“The first woman who spent any amount of time aboard this ship was Elizabeth de Obregon, whom we salvaged from the wrack of the Manila Galleon at the same time as him who burned it, one Edouard de Gex.”
“He’s dead, by the way.”
“Again? I am glad to hear it.”
“Love is possible only if two persons communicate with each other from the center of their existence, hence if each one of them experiences himself from the center of his existence. Only in this “central experience” is human reality, only here is aliveness, only here is the basis for love. Love, experienced thus, is a constant challenge; it is not a resting place, but a moving, growing, working together; even whether there is harmony or conflict, joy or sadness, is secondary to the fundamental fact that two people experience themselves from the essence of their existence, that they are one with each other by being one with themselves, rather than by fleeing from themselves. There is only one proof for the presence of love: the depth of the relationship, and the aliveness and strength in each person concerned; this is the fruit by which love is recognized.”
“Do you ever think it's the dead that have the happy ending? Just they don't have to worry about surviving."
"But they're dead," he says
"Yeah. That means they don't have to remember anything."
Elias shakes his head. "That means they can't ever love."
I snort. "So they don't know loss.”
“ I will give you this, my love, and I will not bargain or barter any longer. I will love you, as sure as He has loved me. I will discover what I can discover and though you remain a mystery, save God's own knowledge, what I disclose of you I will keep in the warmest chamber of my heart, the very chamber where God has stowed Himself in me. And I will do this to my death, and to death it may bring me.
I will love you like God, because of God, mighted by the power of God. I will stop expecting your love, demanding you love, trading for your love, gaming for your love. I will simply love. I am giving myself to you, and tomorrow I will do it again. I suppose the clock itself will wear thin its time before I am ended at this altar of dying and dying again.
God risked Himself on me. I will risk myself on you. And together, we will learn to love, and perhaps then, and only then, understand this gravity that drew Him, unto us.”
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