Letter to a Child Never Born - 精华摘要
- 2020-06-29 05:24:27
- Moments of joy are brief parentheses for which you pay a cruel price
- I'll only ask you to take full advantage of the miracle of being born and never to give in to cowardice. Cowardice is a beast that is forever lurking
- Hasn't it been said that the subconscious is the memory of an existence lived before coming into the world?
- In the same moment that you get yourself tortured for freedom, you'll discover that freedom doesn't exist, that at most it existed only in so far as you sought it: like a dream, an idea born from the memory of your life before birth, when you were free because you were alone
- I told you it's always worthwhile to be born, since the alternative is silence and the void
- Since going back to my regular life, I feel like a new person: a seagull in flight. Was there really a moment when I wanted to die? Insane. Life is so beautiful, and so is light. And the trees are beautiful, and the earth and the sea. There's a lot of sea here: does its perfume reach you, its roar? Also it's beautiful to work if joy is quivering inside you. I was lying when I told you that work is forever tiring and humiliating. You must forgive me: rage and anxiety made me see only darkness.
- Good-night, Child, tomorrow we start our trip by car. I'd like to write you a poem that would tell of my relief, my rediscovered faith, this wish to spread garlands of flowers on the roofs, the bell towers, the clouds, this sensation of flying like a seagull in the blue, far from all the filth and melancholy, over a sea that always looks clean from on high. Actually courage is optimism, I wasn't optimistic because I wasn't courageous.
- Maternity is not a moral duty. It's not even a biological fact. It's a conscious choice. This woman had made a conscious choice, and she didn't want to kill anyone. It's you who wanted to kill her, Doctor, by denying her even the use of her own intellect.
- No one asks for it. In nothingness there is no will. There is no choice. There's nothingness, that's all.
- But is it enough to believe in love if you don't believe in life?
- In my universe, which you called the egg, the purpose existed: it was to be born. But in your world the purpose is only to die: life is a death sentence. I don't see why I should have had to emerge from nothingness just to return to nothingness
- the things in which I force myself to believe: to be born to be happy, free, good, to fight in the name of happiness, of freedom, of goodness, to be born to venture, to know, to discover, to invest - so as not to die
- And only those who torture themselves with questions can go forward; only those who don't give in to the comfort of believing in God can begin again: contradict themselves again, be unworthy of themselves again, give themselves over once more to sorrow
- have to stamp out my self-pity and convince myself that pain is not the salt of life. The salt of life is happiness, and happiness exists: it consists in the pursuit of it. Finally I still have to clarify that mystery they call love. Not the kind that's consummated in a bed by touching each other. I mean the kind I was about to know with you. I miss you, Child.
- Our wounds heal with astonishing speed. If we didn't bear the scars, we wouldn't even remember that blood had flowed. And eventually even the scars disappear.
- Why, because life exists, Child! The cold goes away when I say that life exists, my drowsiness goes away, I feel I’m life itself. A light is on. I hear voices. Someone is running, crying out in despair. But elsewhere a thousand, a hundred thousand children are being born, and mothers of future children: life doesn't need you or me. You're dead. Maybe I’m dying too. But it doesn't matter. Because life doesn't die.
- Your sad fairy tales always ended with a question: Was it really time for me to emerge from my peaceful nest and come forth? You never told me that one can pick magnolia blossoms without dying, that one can eat chocolate without humiliation, that tomorrow can be better than yesterday
- her arms resting on the sill and her chin resting on her arms (sample description for waiting by the window)
- birds migrate in flocks, and fish swim in shoals
- pain is the salt of life and without it we would not be human
- the splendor of a dawn, the sweetness of a kiss, the aroma of a meal
- just like my life: all holes and stones and snags (figurative description of ones' life on the road)
- a bee who is allowed to flit from flower to flower (idiom)
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