During the blue nights you think the end of day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close(and they wil, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an aprrehension of illness, at the moment you first notice: the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone. This book is called" Blue nights" because at the time I began it I found my mind turning increasingly to illness, to the end of promise, the dwindling the days, the inevitability of the fading, the dying of the bightness. Blue nights are the opposite of the dying of the bightness, but they are also waring.
Time passes. Memory fades, memory adjusts, memory comforms to what we think we remember.
I realized that I was no longer, if I had ever been, afraid to die：I was now afraid not to die, afraid that I might damage my brain(or my heart or my kidneys or my nervous system) and survive, continue living.
On that wedding day, July 26, 2003, we could see no reason to think that such ordinary blessings would not come their way.
We still counted happiness and health and love and luck and beautiful children as "ordinary blessings."
You can check out any time you like-
But you can never leave-
"Borderline personality disorder: A Clinical Guide."Such patients may seem charming, composed, and psychologically intact one day and collapse into suicidal despair the next."
Once she was born, I was never not afraid.
I was afraid of swimming pools, high-tension wires, lye under the sink, asprin in the medicine cabinet, The Borken Man himself. I was afraid of rattlesnakes riptides, landslides, strangers who appeared at the door, unpexlained fevers, elevators without operators and empty hotl corridors. The source of the fear was obvious: it was the harm that could come to her. A question: if we and our children could in fact see the other clear would the fear go away? Would the feat go away for both of us, or would the fear go away only for me?
For everything there is a season.
Aging and its evidence remain life's most predictable events, yet they also remain matters we prefer to leave unmentioned, unexplored: I have watched tears flood the eyes of grown women, loved women, women of talent and accomplishment, for no reason other than that a small child in the room, more often that not an adored niece or nephew, has just described them as "wrinkly" or asked how old they are.
" Don't dwell on it"
He was my North, my South, my East and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden
The leaves on the trees were already losing their intensity, still weeks from dropping but ready to drop, not exactly faded but fading.
"Pushing yourself beyond endurance"......