Thi Le

“Friendship was witnessing another’s slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs. It was feeling honored by the privilege of getting to be present for another person’s most dismal moments, and knowing that you could be dismal around him in return.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

“Tôi thích những mối tình câm, tình thầm. Tôi tưởng tượng đó là những mối tình da diết, sâu sắc. Mãi mãi chẳng dám nói thật lòng, cho đến cuối đời, tình ấy vẫn bàng bạc, rập rờn, và mỗi khi có dịp (như đi qua chỗ ngồi cũ, con đường cũ, gương mặt cũ…), ta bỗng thấy nhói ran. Chắc là khó chịu lắm, khi yêu mà giả bộ không yêu, khi buồn cố diễn mặt vui, khi đau tình phải tỏ ra vô tình…”
― Nguyễn Ngọc Tư, Cánh Đồng Bất Tận

“It is also then that I wish I believed in some sort of life after life, that in another universe, maybe on a small red planet where we have not legs but tails, where we paddle through the atmosphere like seals, where the air itself is sustenance, composed of trillions of molecules of protein and sugar and all one has to do is open one's mouth and inhale in order to remain alive and healthy, maybe you two are there together, floating through the climate. Or maybe he is closer still: maybe he is that gray cat that has begun to sit outside our neighbor's house, purring when I reach out my hand to it; maybe he is that new puppy I see tugging at the end of my other neighbor's leash; maybe he is that toddler I saw running through the square a few months ago, shrieking with joy, his parents huffing after him; maybe he is that flower that suddenly bloomed on the rhododendron bush I thought had died long ago; maybe he is that cloud, that wave, that rain, that mist. It isn't only that he died, or how he died; it is what he died believing. And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life