Maybe it's wrong when we remember breakthroughs to our own being as something that occurs in discrete, extraordinary moments. Maybe falling in love, the piercing knowledge that we ourselves will someday die, and the love of snow are in reality not some sudden events; maybe they were always present. Maybe they never completely vanish, either.
Peter HøegTag: love death snow being breakthrough
She was transparent, like a watercolor. As if she were about to dissolve in sound, in tones not yet created.
Peter HøegUnder certain circumstances the fateful decisions in life, sometimes even in matters of life and death, are made with an almost indifferent ease. While the little things-for instance, the way people hang on to what is over-seem so important.
Peter HøegTag: life-lessons
We think there are limits to the dimensions of fear. Until we encounter the unknown. Then we can all feel boundless amounts of terror.
Peter HøegThe cookies combine butter and spices in such a way that you could eat a hundred of them and only realize how sick you are after it's too late.
Peter HøegChildren woke up at six-thirty in the morning and shifted directly into fourth gear. Fourteen hours later they rushed straight into sleep at more than a hundred miles an hour without decelerating.
Peter HøegShe looked at him. As if she wanted to determine his molecular weight.
Peter HøegSome thoughts have glue on them.----Smilla
Peter HøegTag: wisdom-in-fiction
Those who were on the inside, the majority that is, for them it had been hard to get his point, mostly they were just pleased that they were on the inside, that they were the fittest.
For those on the outside, the fear and abandonment amounts to almost everything; everybody knows that.
Understanding is something one does best when one is on the borderline.
Once you have realised that there is no objective external world to be found; that what you know is only a filtered and processed version, then it is a short step to the thought that, in that case, other people too are nothing but a processed shadow, and but a short step more to the belief that every person must somehow be shut away, isolated behind their own unreliable sensory apparatus. And then the thought springs easily to mind that man is, fundamentally, alone. That the world is made up of disconnected consciousnesses, each isolated within the illusion created by its own senses, floating in a featureless vacuum.
He does not put it so bluntly, but the idea is not far away. That, fundamentally, man is alone.
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