She let out a laugh, and then she put her hand over her mouth, like she was angry at herself for forgetting her sadness.
Jonathan Safran FoerI want an infinitely blank book and the rest of time.
Jonathan Safran FoerMots clés writing suffering mute
We believed in our grandmother’s cooking more fervently than we believed in God.
Jonathan Safran FoerMots clés grandmothers
After a time, I had only a handful of words left... Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn't the world, it wasn't the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don't know, but it's so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I've thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.
Jonathan Safran FoerWe could imagine all sorts of universes unlike this one, but this is the one that happened.
Jonathan Safran FoerE adesso, permettimi di chiederti come pensi che riuscirai a ottenere i risultati che mi hai elencato.”
“Seppellirò i miei sentimenti nel profondo di me.”
“Che cosa intendi per seppellire i tuoi sentimenti?”
“Anche se saranno fortissimi non li lascerò uscire. Se dovrò piangere, piangerò dentro. Se dovrò sanguinare, mi verranno dei lividi. Se il mio cuore comincerà a dare i numeri, non ne parlerò con nessuno al mondo. Tanto non serve. Rovina solamente la vita a tutti.
I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness. We made love in nothing places and turned the lights off. It felt like crying. We could not look at each other. It always had to be from behind. Like that first time. And I knew he wasn't thinking of me.
He squeezed my sides so hard, and pushed so hard. Like he was trying to push me through to somewhere else.
Why does anyone ever make love?
But come. No explaining or mending. Be beside me somewhere.
Jonathan Safran FoerI wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I'd been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I'd be there with you now instead of here. Maybe... if I'd said, 'I'm so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,' maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn't do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.
Jonathan Safran FoerWe spent our lives making livings.
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