Love - true love - is a precious thing. It is painful, uncomfortable, makes fools of us all, but it is what breathes meaning and color and purpose into our lives.
Do you believe you can change your destiny?' he (Sajhe) said, seeking an answer. Alice found herself nodding. 'Otherwise, what's the point? If we are simply walking a path preordained, then all the experiences that make us who we are - love, grief, joy, learning, changing - would count for nothing.
The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.
There is no pattern the human mind can devise that does not exist already within the bounds of nature...Everything we do, see, write, notate, all are an echo of the deep seams of the universe. Music is the invisible world made visible through sound.
The colour of the magpie, her father was saying, was symbolic of creation. The void, the mystery of that which had not yet taken form. Black and white, he said. Presence and absence.
You well know that if a lie is repeated often enough, in the face of the clearest evidence to the contrary, even the most level-headed of men start to believe in it. Falsehood easily becomes accepted truth.
Aber jede noch so kleine Verbesserung meines Zustandes entfernte mich weiter von George, und in Wahrheit war seine Gesellschaft die einzige, nach der mich verlangte. Ich empfand es als Verrat, dass ich lernte ohne ihn zu leben.
The thinnest shaft of light entered the empty chambers of my heart, just for a moment. Then it disappeared, extinguished by the weight of all that had gone before.
Die Toten hinterlassen ihre Schatten, einen Nachhall des Raumes, den sie einst bewohnten. Sie suchen uns heim, werden nie schwacher oder alter als wir. Wir betrauern nicht nur den Verlust ihrer Zukunft, sondern auch den der unseren.
In meinem Krankenzimmer herrschte ein Kommen und Gehen. Arzte, die Stationsschwester und ihre Schar von Pflegerinnen in gestarkten Trachten und gummibesohlten Schuhen. Vordergrundig schien sich die Geschichte zu wiederholen. Ein Sanatorium in Sussex, ein Krankenhaus in Fois, ein Patient, der mit dem Leben nicht zurechtkam.