Bokelskere.no

Jeg sier: Vi kan ikke kaste denne leselampen, den har jo bestandig stått ved stolen hennes? Og bokhyllene som har rommet alt hun har lest? Vi kan ikke kaste denne hvite emaljegryten - det er så jeg kan kjenne smaken av stekt torskerogn og raspete gulrøtter.
Og hver gang sier søsteren min: Så bra at du vil ha den! Bare ta den. Kjempefint!
Men jeg vil jo ikke ha det, jeg vil bare ikke at det skal forsvinne, jeg vil ikke at det skal ut av huset.

Det var ei gammal frykt, ei frykt som aldri er gått over: Eg var redd for at livet mitt, ved å miste delar av livet hennar, blei mindre intenst og mindre viktig.

I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided,

To love is to tire of being alone; it is therefore a cowardice, a betrayal of ourselves. (It is exceedingly important that we not love.)

All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist.

To be understood is to prostitute oneself.

Thinking about the past is like digging up graves.

Reading is a bit like hallucinating.

Some memories refuse to be locked in time or place, they are always present.

Could there possibly be life after death or, better still, before?

Is there anything more fascinating about a person than a beautiful neck seen from behind? The back of the neck is a promise, summing up the whole person through their most intimate feature.

To know your way around a library is to master a culture, i.e.the whole world.

My mom says I just haven't met the right guy yet, the guy who sees the stars in my eyes.

True enough. I have yet to meet that guy.

There are moments when history and memory seem like a mist, as if what really happened matters less than what should have happened.

Antagonism in my family comes wrapped in layers of code, sideways feints, full deniability.

Det er flere som henne. Spredt omkring i verden. De kjenner hverandre igjen når de støter på hverandre, på tørsten, på blikket. De snakker samme språk, det er et språk, jeg kan det, selv om det ikke er mitt og aldri blir mitt, kan jeg det, er jeg tospråklig.

Tenk selv, sier hun og forteller hvor idiotiske de er som tenker forskjellig fra henne.

Vil du bli ei undertrykt jente
skal du seie at du er ei undertrykt jente
du vil ganske enkelt bli tatt
på ordet

When you sneak up on a man to kill him with a knife, his drill sergeant explained sixty years ago, don't stare at him. People know when you're staring at the back of their head. I don't know how, I don't know why. Just don't look at their head. Look at the feet, make your approach, get the knife in. Head forward, not back. never let him know you're there. If you want him dead, make him dead. Don't negotiate with him. He's likely to disagree.

For den verste redselen for døden er alltid at den skal gå forbi oss. Og la oss bli sittende alene igjen.