It stayed with him, like a part of him, like a birthmark, like a limb, it was on him, in him, him, his hymn: I had to do it for myself.
Jonathan Safran FoerThere was nothing, which would have been unfortunate, unless nothing was a clue. Was nothing a clue?
Jonathan Safran Foershe saw through the shell of me into the center of me … She went home with her father, the center of me followed her, but I was left with the shell of me
Jonathan Safran FoerShe was like a drowning person, flailing, reaching for anything that might save her. Her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her life. She learned impossibly difficult songs on her violin, songs outside of what she thought she could know, and would each time come crying to Yankel, I have learned to play this one too! It's so terrible! I must write some- thing that not even I can play! She spent evenings with the art books Yankel had bought for her in Lutsk, and each morning sulked over breakfast, They were good and fine, but not beautiful. No, not if I'm being honest with my- self. They are only the best of what exists. She spent an afternoon staring at their front door.
Waiting for someone? Yankel asked.
What color is this?
He stood very close to the door, letting the end of his nose touch the peephole. He licked the wood and joked, It certainly tastes like red.
Yes, it is red, isn't it?
Seems so.
She buried her head in her hands. But couldn't it be just a bit more red?
He wrote, You're being crazy. You're going to catch a cold.
I already have a cold.
You are going to catch a colder.
I could not believe he was making a joke. And I could not believe I laughed.
I’m not smarter than you, I’m more knowledgeable than you, and that’s only because I’m older than you. Parents are always more knowledgeable than their children, and children are always smarter than their parents.
Jonathan Safran FoerStichwörter: parents children fiction
Isn't it so weird how the number of dead people is increasing, though the earth stays the same size, so that one day there isn't going to be a room to bury anyone anymore?
Jonathan Safran FoerTo feel alone is to be alone.
Jonathan Safran FoerStichwörter: alone everything-is-illuminated jonathan-safran-foer
The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, what a mess I am, I thought, what a fool, how foolish and narrow, how worthless, how pinched and pathetic, how helpless.
Jonathan Safran FoerIn the end, everyone loses everyone.
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