On the screen a bright jagged line was continually being written
Why would I want to get myself operated on?
Think of the risk at my age, and what for?
I think the best thing for me to do is go home and take it easy
I wished I’d had a boy and a girl. Or two boys
They couldn’t possibly know so much about you
I did the same thing at that age
We talked about our parents, our childhoods
About their mistaken ambitions
Those years you were growing up are all just a kind of a blur
I remembered each separate year with pain and clarity
I wanted to see somebody who wasn’t related to me, and who didn’t expect anything from me
I was always afraid to take chances
A wasted life
If there’s anything you can’t explain, there’s a great temptation to make a mystery out of it
To believe in Soul
-
Every day opened up to her to have God’s will done in it
My father was not much religious
Serious people — that’s how I would try to describe them
One drop of hatred in your soul will spread and discolor everything
God isn’t interested in what kind of job or what kind of education anybody has
She was always scared of a silent house
I always had a feeling, with my mother’s talk and stories, of something swelling out behind
Like a cloud you couldn’t see through, or get to the end of
There was a cloud, a poison, that had touched my mother’s life
And when I grieved my mother, I became part of it
I felt as if something could stop now — the stories, and griefs, the old puzzles you can’t resist or solve
She was a hard woman to live with
Why shouldn’t Beryl’s version of the same event be different from my mother’s?
My mother’s version absorbed Beryl’s story
You burned up money in the stove?
You burned their chances. You burned up everything the money could have got for them
I haven’t stopped believing it. But I have stopped telling that story
Moments of kindness and reconciliation are worth having
Old marriages — where love and grudges could be growing underground
-
Too many things. Too many things going on at the same time, also too many people
What do you want us to pay attention to?
She imagined that garden
Maya — vulnerable, gifted and brittle
Hilda had kept track
Rich girls were spoiled and brainless
They were not exactly lonely people, but they were lonely for somebody to talk to about books
She did not need to read much of a book to know about it
She got a sense of it easily, almost at once, as if by smell
She thought of being launched out on a gray, deep, baleful, magnificent sea. Love
She punished Maya. She punished Miles
She broke with Ben
We never believe we are going to die
We should behave differently
She walks back to town through the yellow-leafed streets with their autumn smells and silences
She doesn’t think about Raymond
-
My favorite authors are Thomas Hardy, who is accused of being gloomy but I think is very true to life
Every day she was sure he would come, every day she was prepared for him
He had been in the same room with her, watched her, and taken his chance
But never made himself known
He got a little carried away
In his dreams of an accident there was a spreading silence, everything was shut down
Every machine in the place stopped making its customary noise and every man’s voice was removed, and when Arthur looked out of the office window he understood that doom had fallen
The idea that the man who had died in such a way had been the last person to open these books, turn these pages
The thought that he might have left a bit of his life in them, a scrap of paper or a pipe cleaner as a marker
It’s natural to want to know the worst
A machine is your servant and it is an excellent servant, but it makes an imbecile master
Ask and ye shall receive
You can’t have a death without a doctor. That set the rest in motion. Doctor, undertaker, coffin, flowers, preacher
I should not have asked you. I should not have mentioned it
I can never explain to you why I did. I would like just to ask you, if you can help it
A mystery that would never be solved
What kind of secrets she could have?
I always meant to break the ice. I meant to speak to you. I should have gone in and said good-bye at least
Love dies all the time, or at any rate it becomes distracted
She believed in the swift decision, the unforeseen intervention, the uniqueness of her fate
-
If you want the quality, you have to pay the price
This was the smell of treachery