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726 pages, hardbound
First published January 1, 1980
‘I’ve now reached the point where I don’t hate anyone. Hatred makes things worse. Hatred stops one coming to terms with all the horror and grief. And one must come to terms with it. Somehow.’
How could parents endure to labour for years, to sacrifice themselves so that their children should have nothing but the best, and to discover in the end that it had all been for so little, for a quick visit on national holidays and a few hours spent in front of the television set in a silence neither side knew how to break?
‘Oh, it was just a game,’ I said to the first psychiatrist, ‘just a way of making me feel better because I missed my boys so much.’ ‘No, it wasn’t a game,’ I said to the second psychiatrist. ‘It was real, they were all real, I knew what they looked like, and then suddenly one day they were gone and I didn’t know – still don’t know – how to bear the loss, I still miss them so much, whenever I think of them I can’t endure their nonexistence
We have the three As instead: allies, aides and acquaintances. Or in other words: those we barter with, those we buy and those we acknowledge because it suits us to do so
Hypocrisy saves one’s sanity. It’s the shield you hide behind when the truth is too terrible to face
‘Fact number two: all women basically want to be wives and mothers—’
‘No, honey, they don’t. Sorry, but they just don’t. My fifty per cent of the human race isn’t a bunch of identical plastic dolls. We’re human beings and we’re all different and – incredible though this may seem to you – we don’t all want the same thing’
Of all the great empires the world has known, ours will be the shortest. Two hundred years of chasing the Godalmighty Dollar, and what do we produce? The A-Bomb and I Love Lucy.
You’re all cut off and sewn up