And then, one day, she stopped. Slowly, painfully, step by small step, her contempt for suffering began to restore her to life. She would not allow her love for Leo to be a tragedy, and to become a scar on her soul, she told herself angrily. She would not let pain win its one permanent victory: to make her forget her conviction that joy is the meaning of human existence. “Life is ahead,” she told herself ferociously. She stopped questioning his friends about him, she stopped seeking him out—she tried to stop thinking about him. But in 1961, in her middle years, at the height of her powers and strength, when it seemed as if the whole world were spread out before her, offering her everything she had ever dreamed of, she said, with an almost childlike wistfulness, “I am not indifferent to Leo, to this day.” Then she added softly, “But you see, it was fortunate that he didn’t ask me to marry him. I would have said yes, I would have stayed in Russia—and I would have died there.”
Sayfa 49
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85 görüntüleme
Bu noktaya hiç inanasım gelmiyor, bence Leo ona daha fazla yüz vermedi de böyle oldu
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