Does something which exists on the edge have no true relevance to the stable center, or does it, by being on the edge, become a part of the edge and thus a part of the boundary, the definition which gives the whole its shape?
Lucy GrealySometimes the briefest moments capture us, force us to take them in, and demand that we live the rest of our lives in reference to them.
Lucy GrealyThrough [my friends] I discovered what it was to love people. There was an art to it...which was not really all that different from the love that is necessary in the making of art. It required the effort of always seeing them for themselves and not as I wished them to be...
Lucy GrealyAnxiety and anticipation, I was to learn, are the essential ingredients in suffering from pain, as opposed to feeling pain pure and simple.
Lucy GrealyPart of the job of being human is to consistently underestimate our effect on other people...
Lucy GrealyBeauty, as defined by society at large, seemed to be only about who was best at looking like everyone else.
Lucy GrealyThe school year progressed slowly. I felt as if I had been in the sixth grade for years, yet it was only October. Halloween was approaching. Coming from Ireland, we had never thought of it as a big holiday, though Sarah and I usually went out trick-or treating. For the last couple of years I had been too sick to go out, but this year Halloween fell on a day when I felt quiet fine. My mother was the one who came up with the Eskimo idea. I put on a winter coat, made a fish out of paper, which I hung on the end of a stick, and wrapped my face up in a scarf. My hair was growing in, and I loved the way the top of the hood rubbed against it. By this time my hat had become part of me; I took it off only at home. Sometimes kids would make fun of me, run past me, knock my hat off, and call me Baldy. I hated this, but I assumed that one day my hair would grow in, and on that day the teasing would end.
We walked around the neighborhood with our pillowcase sacks, running into other groups of kids and comparing notes: the house three doors down gave whole candy bars, while the house next to that gave only cheap mints. I felt wonderful. It was only as the night wore on and the moon came out and the older kids, the big kids, went on their rounds that I began to realize why I felt so good. No one could see me clearly. No one could see my face.
Tags: autobiography-of-a-face
The general plot of life is sometimes shaped by the different ways genuine intelligence combines with equally genuine ignorance.
Lucy GrealyTags: dark-humor
Partly I was honing my self-consciousness into a torture device, sharp and efficient enough to last me the rest of my life.
Lucy GrealyTags: life torture sharp self-consciousness device
This singularity of meaning--I was my face, I was ugliness--though sometimes unbearable, also offered a possible point of escape. It became the launching pad from which to lift off, the one immediately recognizable place to point to when asked what was wrong with my life. Everything led to it, everything receded from it--my face as personal vanishing point.
Lucy GrealyTags: life pain wrong ugly face singularity ugliness
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