Jessica

“Are you tired?" Carol asked calmly.

The question seemed not of now but of always.”
― Patricia Highsmith

“Your taste for literature did not come from your father, who read little, but from your mother, who taught it. You wondered how, being so different, they could have formed a union; but you noted that in you there was a mixture of the violence of the one and the gentleness of the other. Your father exerted his violence on others. Your mother was sympathetic to the suffering of others. One day you directed the violence you had inherited toward yourself. You dished it out like your father and you took it like your mother.”
― Édouard Levé, Suicide

“You know, you look very fine," Carol said. "You've come out all of the sudden. Is that what comes of getting away from me?"

"No," Therese said quickly. She frowned down at the tea she didn't want. Carol's phrase "come out" had made her think of being born, and it embarrassed her. Yes, she had been born since she left Carol. She had been born the instant she saw the picture in the library, and her stifled cry then was like the first yell of an infant, being dragged into the world against its will.”
― Patricia Highsmith, Carol

“If human beings, through most of our history, have moved back and forth fluidly between different social arrangements, assembling and dismantling hierarchies on a regular basis, maybe the real question should be ‘how did we get stuck?’ How did we end up in one single mode? How did we lose that political self-consciousness, once so typical of our species? How did we come to treat eminence and subservience not as temporary expedients, or even the pomp and circumstance of some kind of grand seasonal theatre, but as inescapable elements of the human condition? If we started out just playing games, at what point did we forget that we were playing?”
― David Graeber, The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity