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Hva hadde hun uten pappa? Ingenting. Hun hadde ingenting med pappa heller, men da var hun i alle fall ikke alene. Mamma klarte ikke å være alene.
He'd settle into the anger because the anger was so much easier than the work required to escape it
He's trying to be in the moment, trying not to let the moment get all discolored by his fantasies of what the moment ought to be.
Sometimes a crisis is not really a crisis at all - just a new beginning. Because one thing she's learned through all this is that if a new beginning is really new, it will feel like a crisis. Any real change should make you feel, at first, afraid. If you're not afraid of it, then it's not real change.
She'd never put all of herself in just one place. It felt too risky. Because her great and constant fear all these years was that if anyone ever came to know all of her - the real her, the true deep essential Faye - they would not find enough stuff there to love. Hers was not a soul large enough to nourish another.
Understanding is always harder than plain hatred. But it expands your life. You will feel less alone.
I lysninga er alt synleg.
I lysninga blir alt mogleg.
Eg fryktar skogen som ikkje har gøymestader, skuggar unna lysninga, og går inn dit trea held saman.
If you see people as enemies or obstacles or traps, you will be at constant war with them and with yourself. Whereas if you choose to see people as puzzles, and if you see yourself as a puzzle, the you will be constantly delighted, because eventually, if you dig deep enough into anybody, if you really look under the hood of someone's life, you will find something familiar.
It's like he's experiencing his life at a one-step remove, as if he's not leading his life but rather assessing and appraising a life that weirdly, unfortunately, happens to be his.
I can't speak. Sorrow is food swallowed too quickly, caught in the throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
The way they turn to each other like plants following the sun across the sky. They are each other's light.
Something in his face was pulled tight, wrong, like underneath his skin he was crisscrossed with tape. Like he would cry.
I like to think I know what death is. I like to think that it's something I could look at straight.
I stedet kan han få kjenne på vekta til en stor voksen mann som presser ham ned i betongen, sakte skviser livet ut. Ja, sakte, sånn at du får god tid til å tenke over at det aldri var meningen at du skulle fly, at din plass var nederst, aller nederst sammen med bensinsøl og bikkjedrit og spytt og alt annet vi setter beinet på og glemmer. Alt det vi vet er der, men som vi aldri ser. Ikke før vi må, og da blir vi sinte. For vår verden er ikke sånn. Vår verden er jevn og pen, og alle er like, og alle har de samme mulighetene, og alle er frie