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“Tell me a story, Pew.
What kind of story, child?
A story with a happy ending.
There’s no such thing in all the world.
As a happy ending?
As an ending.”
― Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
Ikke klag over livet, barn. Det er kort nok som det er.
'That's another story yet,' he said, 'and if you tell yourself like a story, it doesn't seem so bad.'
You must never doubt the one you love.
But they might not be telling you the truth.
Never mind that. You tell them the truth.
What do you mean?
You can't be another person's honesty, child, but you can be your own.
So what should I say?
When?
When I love someone?
You should say it.
What should I do about the wild and the tame? The wild heart that wants to be free, and the tame heart that wants to come home. I want to be held. I don't want you to come too close. I want you to scoop me up and bring me home at nights. I don't want to tell you where I am. I want to keep a place among the rocks where no one can find me. I want to be with you.
It's better if I think of my life like that - part miracle, part madness. It's better to accept that I can't control any of the things that matter. My life is a trail of shipwrecks and set-sails. There are no arrivals, no destinations; there are only sandbanks and shipwreck; then another boat, another tide.
I lay down under the duck feathers and duck feet and duck bill and glassy duck eyes and snooked duck tail and waited for daylight. We are lucky, even the worst of us, because daylight comes.
My mother called me Silver. I was born part precious metal part pirate.
Fortell meg en historie, Pew.
Hva slags historie, jenta mi?
En historie med en lykkelig slutt.
Det finnes ingen sånne historier i hele verden.
Med en lykkelig slutt?
Med en slutt.