(..) but what is the worst pain? To me, it’s always the pain that is present.
Jeg nærmer meg slutten nå, og vurderer egentlig bare å droppe å lese videre - noe jeg sjeldent gjør, og som deg ikke har opplevd å ha følt før med Paulo Coelho.
But now, since J. had assigned him this task, he felt that his angel was much more present - as if the angels made themselves available only to those who believed in their existence. He knew, though, that whether one believed in them or not, they were always there - messengers of life, of death, of hell, and of paradise.
"Even though I don't want to know 'how' or 'where,' you taught me that there is a question we should always ask as we undertake something. I'm asking you that question now: Why? Why must I do this?"
"Because people always kill the things they love," J. replied.
I wrote huge number of letters that spring: one a week to Naoko, several to Reiko, and several more to Midori. I wrote letters in the lecture hall, I wrote letters at my desk at home with Seagull on my lap, I wrote letters at empty tables during my breaks at the Italian restaurant. It was as If I were writing letters to hold together the pieces of my crumbling life.
I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and wait for it to pass. And it would pass - but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache in its path.
I told her I missed her, that I had been hoping, one way or another, to be able to meet her and talk. In any case, I wrote, I've decided to make myself strong. As far as I can tell, that's all I can do.
Holly smiled weakly. Gerry would know exactly how she was feeling, he would know exactly what to say and exactly what to do. He would give her one of his famous hugs and all her problems would melt away. She grabbed a pillow from her bed and hugged it tight. She couldn't remember the last time she had hugged someone, really hugged someone. And the depressing thing was that she couldn't imagine ever embracing anyone the same way again.
So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.
It’s great that you can listen and be a shoulder to someone, but what about when someone doesn’t need a shoulder. What if they need the arms or something like that?
En morgen forsto hun at hun var blitt syk av all ydmykelsen. Hun kastet opp. Det var latterlig å streve for å skaffe penger til mat når man bare kastet den opp.
It's like when you are excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to always feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means that you're happy too.
“What really knocks me out is a book, when you’re all done reading it, you wished the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.”
Dette er den flotteste og vondeste boken jeg har lest siden jeg leste Mannen som Elsket Yngve for første gang da jeg var 16 år. Bare at denne gangen gråt jeg mer og var mer takknemlig.