Tereza

“Bij het woord bejaardenhuis begon men zich allengs ongemakkelijk te voelen. 'Bejaarden' werden 'ouderen'. Het bejaardenhuis werd een verzorgingshuis. Het verzorgingshuis werd een zorgcenrum. En sinds kort ben ik aangesloten bij een marktgerichte serviceorganisatie voor belevingsgerichte zorg op maat. Ik snap nu wel waarom de zorgkosten de pan uit rijzen.”
― Hendrik Groen, Pogingen iets van het leven te maken: Het geheime dagboek van Hendrik Groen, 83¼ jaar

“Kelsier exhaled in exasperation. “Elend Venture? You risked your life—risked the plan, and our lives—for that fool of a boy?”

Vin looked up, glaring at him. “Yes.”

“What is wrong with you, girl?” Kelsier asked. “Elend Venture isn’t worth this.”

She stood angrily, Sazed backing away, the cloak falling the floor. “He’s a good man!”

“He’s a nobleman!”

“So are you!” Vin snapped. She waved a frustrated arm toward the kitchen and the crew. “What do you think this is, Kelsier? The life of a skaa? What do any of you know about skaa? Aristocratic suits, stalking your enemies in the night, full meals and nightcaps around the table with your friends? That’s not the life of a skaa!”

She took a step forward, glaring at Kelsier. He blinked in surprise at the outburst.

“What do you know about them, Kelsier?” she asked. “When’s the last time you slept in an alley, shivering in the cold rain, listening to the beggar next to you cough with a sickness you knew would kill him? When’s the last time you had to lay awake at night, terrified that one of the men in your crew would try to rape you? Have you ever knelt, starving, wishing you had the courage to knife the crewmember beside you just so you could take his crust of bread? Have you ever cowered before your brother as he beat you, all the time feeling thankful because at least you had someone who paid attention to you?”

She fell silent, puffing slightly, the crewmembers staring at her.

“Don’t talk to me about noblemen,” Vin said. “And don’t say things about people you don’t know. You’re no skaa— you’re just noblemen without titles.”

She turned, stalking from the room. Kelsier watched her go, shocked, hearing her footsteps on the stairs. He stood, dumbfounded, feeling a surprising flush of ashamed guilt.

And, for once, found himself without anything to say.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn: The Final Empire

“I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

“Един ден си забраних да се извинявам за неща, които не само че никого не нараняват, но и на друг не влизат в работата. Побеляването на косата ми, гражданското ми състояние, празната кесия, античният модел телефон и изборът ми на какво да се радвам не подлежат на ничий пряк или косвен контрол. Няма кой да ми попречи да се обичам. Понякога работя по толкова часове, колкото се наложи - 21 например. Цяла нощ, периодично заспивам върху клавиатурата. Понякога обаче се вдигам и отивам на кино по обяд. Е, и? На мен ми е добре, сенките под очите са мои, когато се сецна, боли моят кръст. Животът ми е посветен на това да се занимавам с любов с неща, които ме радват, и да отстранявам пречките от пътя към тях за себе си и другите. Не злословя, не завиждам, не се налагам, не се меря с никого. Колкото мога, толкова правя, това ми е мярката. Обичам да се възхищавам, любознателна съм, научих, че светът е пълен с новости, а животът е много къс - пълня си времето с обич, да не съм луда да правя друго?”
― Neva Micheva, Куфарът на брат ми: истории за пътя