[Commonplace books: Thomas Farnaby, 17th-century]
It occurred to her that they might never be so happy again. Beauty was the promise of happiness, not happiness itself; and the anticipated world was often more rich than anything real.
Posted by cristina on 10.04.2009
"Why did he need so many things in his life, Otto wondered; why did all these things have to be so special? Special, beautiful plates; special, beautiful furniture; special, beautiful everything. And all that specialness, it occurred to him, intended only to ensure that no one - especially himself - could possibly underestimate his value. Yet it actually served to illustrate how corroded he was, how threadbare his native resources, how impoverished his discourse with everything that lived and was human."
Posted by cristina on 07.26.2009
She places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I wish that small motherly gesture held no power over me, but it does. It is funny how you do not miss affection until it is given, but once it is, it can never be enough; you would drown in it if possible.
Posted by cristina on 03.24.2009
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