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Marguerite Duras
“I've known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you're more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I prefer your face as it is now. Ravaged.”
Marguerite Duras, The Lover

Annie Ernaux
“When I was a child, luxury was fur coats, evening dresses, and villas by the sea. Later on, I thought it meant leading the life of an intellectual. Now I feel that it is also being able to live out a passion for a man or a woman.”
Annie Ernaux, Simple Passion

Marguerite Duras
“We smile at each other. I ask him if it's unusual to be sad, as we are. He says it's because we've made love in the daytime, with the heat at its height. He says it's always terrible after. He smiles. Says, Whether people love one another or not, it's always terrible. Says it will pass as soon as it gets dark. I say he's wrong, it's not just because it was in the daytime, I feel a sadness I expected and which comes only from myself. I say I've always been sad. That I can see the same sadness in photos of myself when I was small. That today, recognizing it as the sadness I've always had, I could almost call it by my own name, it's so like me. Today I tell him it's a comfort, this sadness, a comfort to have fallen at last into a misfortune my mother has always predicted for me when she shrieks in the desert of her life.”
Marguerite Duras, The Lover

Marguerite Duras
“Years after the war, after marriages, children, divorces, books, he came to Paris with his wife. He phoned her. It's me. She recognized him at once from the voice. He said, I just wanted to hear your voice. She said, it's me, hello. He was nervous, afraid, as before. His voice suddenly trembled. And with the trembling, suddenly, she heard again the voice of China. He knew she'd begun writing books, he'd heard about it through her mother whom he'd met again in Saigon. And about her younger brother, and he'd been grieved for her. Then he didn't know what to say. And then he told her. Told her that it was as before, that he still loved her, he could never stop loving her, that he'd love her until death.”
Marguerite Duras, The Lover
tags: love

Desanka Maksimović
“OPOMENA

Čuj, reći ću ti svoju tajnu:
ne ostavljaj me nikad samu
kad neko svira.
Mogu mi se učiniti
duboke i meke
oči neke
sasvim obične.
Može mi se učiniti
da tonem u zvuke,
pa ću ruke
svakom pružiti.
Može mi se učiniti
lepo i slatko
voleti kratko
za jedan dan.
Ili mogu kom reći u tome
času čudesno sjajnu,
predragu mi tajnu
koliko te volim.
O, ne ostavljaj me nikad samu
kad neko svira.
Učiniće mi se: negde u šumi
ponovo sve moje suze teku
kroz samonikle neke česme.
Učiniće mi se: crn leptir jedan
po teškoj vodi krilom šara
što nekad neko reći mi ne sme.
Učiniće mi se: negde kroz tamu
neko peva i gorkim cvetom
krvavog srca u ranu dira.
O, ne ostavljaj me nikad samu,
nikad samu,
kad neko svira.”
Desanka Maksimović

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