Marie Van Caekenberghe > Recent Status Updates

Your hand is cold, mine is hot as fire.

Nastenka's story
But grandmother called me one morning and said that since she was blind she couldn't keep an eye on me, so she took a pin and fastened my dress to hers, and then said that we would sit like that for the rest of our lives.

And you shake your head and say: How quickly do the years fly by? And again you ask yourself: What have you done with your years? Did you live or not?

Night 1
It was such a bright sky that looking at it you could not help but ask yourself: is it really possible for bad-tempered and capricious people to live under such a sky?

Lily being the lesbian representation in 1927. Imagine hoeveel dat voor sommige toen moest betekenen. Live, laugh, love Virginia Woolf.
"There was in Lily a thread of something; a flare of something; something of her own which Mrs Ramsay liked very much indeed, but no man would, she feared". ATE.

His understanding often astonished her. But did he notice the flowers? No. Did he notice the view? No.

Does the progress of civilisation depend upon great men? Is the lot of the average human being better now than in the time of the Pharaohs? Is the lot of the average human being, however, he asked himself, the criterion by which we judge the measure of civilisation?

The extraordinary irrationality of her remark, the folly of women's minds enraged him. He had ridden through the valley of death, been shattered and shivered; and now she flew in the face of facts, made his children hope what was utterly out of the question, in effect, told lies. He stamped his foot on the stone step. 'Damn you,' he said. But what had she said? Simply that it might be fine tomorrow. So it might.

'The earth is as old as we are, no older. How could it be older? Nothing exists except through human consciousness.'

It was curious to think that the sky was the same for everybody, in Eurasia or Eastasia as well as here. And the people under the sky were also very much the same-everywhere, all over the world, hundreds of thousands of millions of
people just like this.

For in that case each would still be a self-contained universe, freed for ever from the sobering influence of external danger. A peace that was truly permanent would be the same as a permanent war.

He would cry out with rage when she stopped ladling, he would try to wrench the saucepan and spoon out of her hands, he would grab bits from his sister's plate. He knew that he was starving the other two, but he could not help it, he even felt that he had a right to do it.

'We are the dead,' he said.

'We're not dead yet,' said Julia prosaically.

'Not physically. Six months, a year-five years, conceivably. I am afraid of death. You are young, so presumably you're more afraid of it than I am. Obviously we shall put it off as long as we can. But it makes very little difference. So long as human beings stay human, death and life are the same thing.'

For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four? Or that the force of gravity works? Or that the past is unchangeable? If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable-what then?

"Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it".