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Han var nitten. Han hadde langt, fett hår og enorme kinnskjegg med frokostrester i. Da han var yngre hadde han hatt kviser. De var borte nå, men hadde etterlatt hull. Derav kallenavnet. Ansiktet hans så ut som overfalten av månen. Han hadde hjernen til en dobørste. Mamma,pappa og jeg var fullstendig enige om dette. Men Becky syntes han var Guds Gave til Kvinnen.

De har det spesielle smilet som kvinner har når de vil at en skal se hvor trette de er, men også deres anstrengelse for å skjule det.

Tenk ikke på det som hendte før, akt ikke på det som en gang var! Nå skaper jeg noe nytt. Det spirer allerede fram. Merker dere det ikke? Ja, jeg legger vei i ødemarken og stier i ørkenen. - Jesaja 43:18-19 -

For no one attracted her more; his hands were beautiful, and his feet, and his voice, and his words, and his haste, and his temper, and his oddity, and his passion, and his saying straight out before every one, we perish, each alone, and his remoteness. (He had opened his book.) But what remained intolerable, she thought, sitting upright, and watching Macalister’s boy tug the hook out of the gills of another fish, was that crass blindness and tyranny of his which had poisoned her childhood and raised bitter storms, so that even now she woke in the night trembling with rage and remembered some command of his; some insolence: “Do this,” “Do that,” his dominance: his “Submit to me.”

What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which one pressed through into those secret chambers? What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the same, one with the object one desire? Could the body achieve it, or the mind, subtly mingling in the intricate passages of the brain? or the heart? Could loving, as people called it, make her and Mrs Ramsay one? for it was not knowledge but unity she desired, not inscriptions on tablets, nothing that could be written in any language known to men, but intimacy itself, which is knowledge, she had thought, leaning her head on Mrs Ramsay’s knee.

Uavhengighet betyr mer enn noe annet for meg og det er nesten ikke noe jeg avskyr mer enn å bli med andre mennesker i en bil og da være utlevert til disse menneskene på godt og ondt.

Almost all true enjoyment of people could take place only from a distance. appreciating people was easy as long as they werent close: my father especially. Id learned to love him through seperation, but I didnt know how to communicate with him when he was right in front of me. It felt too dangerous. Being alone was the only time my breathing would come easy. In some ways Id felt allergic to my own life.

Såg det nye monumentet på Akershus; kva det skulle tyda, veit ikkje eg, det ser ut til at dei likar kjempekvinnor der i byen