Jude abayı yakmışsın sen kızım
Instead of trying—and failing—not to think about Cardan, I try not to think at all.
Only he recognized it's her (Cardan the man that you are)
“Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh.”
Cardan
Jude'un Cardan'ın mektuplarını okuyamadığı gerçeği...
“Didn’t you get my letters?”
“What?”
Cardan and Jude
Cardan'ın Jude için katil olmama yeminini bozması, I WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM
"He fought hard to keep you.”
“Cardan?” That doesn’t sound like him.
“Half my knights never made it out,” he informs me grimly.
Madoc and Jude
Hate was a funny thing. It gnawed at her insides like poison. It made every muscle in her body tense, made her veins boil so hot she thought her head might split in half, and yet it fueled everything she did. Hate was its own kind of fire and if you had nothing else, it kept you warm
“You humans always think you’re destined for things, for tragedy or for greatness. Destiny is a myth. Destiny is the only myth. The gods choose nothing. You chose.”
Jiang threw his head back and laughed.
It was a high, wild laugh. He laughed like his lungs were bellows. He laughed like he was nothing human. He spread his arms out and windmilled them in the air, and danced with giddy abandon.
“You darling child,” he said, spinning toward her. “You brilliant child.”
Rin's face split into a grin.
Fuck it, she thought, and leaped up to embrace him.
He picked her up and swung her through the air, around and around among the kaleidoscopically colorful mushrooms.
Praise meant that she had finally, finally received validation that she was not nothing. She could be brilliant, could be worth someone’s attention. She adored praise— craved it, needed it, and realized she found relief only when she finally had it.
Endgame
I say to myself— sometimes, Clov, you must learn
to suffer better than that if you want them to weary of punishing you— one day. I say to myself—sometimes, Clov, you must be better than that if you want them to let you go—one day. But I feel too old, and too far, to form new habits. Good, it'll never end, I'll never go.
Then one day, suddenly, it ends, it changes, I don't understand, it dies, or it's me, I don't understand that either. I ask the words that remain— sleeping, waking, morning, evening. They have nothing to say.
I open the door of the cell and go. I am so bowed I only see my feet, if I open my eyes, and between my legs a little trail of black dust. I say to myself that the earth is extinguished, though I never saw it lit.
It's easy going.
When I fall I'll weep for happiness.
We deprive you of your queenly palace and throne,
Then into the hellish fire - we torture you into the bone,
Now what is left of your fairly formed body is waned and dry,
We still grind you down until nothing is recognisable but your sad eyes,
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That one sums it up. Absolutely!
Do with me what you will," she whispered.
"Well, then whip me, or I shall go mad."
"Haven't I forbidden you?" said Wanda sternly, "but you are incorrigible."
"Oh, I am so terribly in love."
I had sunken on my knees, and was burying my glowing face in her lap.
"I really believe," said Wanda thoughtfully, "that your madness is nothing but a demonic, unsatisfied sensuality.
Our unnatural way of life must generate such illnesses. Were you less virtuous, you would be completely sane."
Pervert's guide to masochism:)
Nothing can intensify my passion more than tyranny, cruelty, and especially the faithlessness of a beautiful woman.
———
Hiçbir şey benim tutkumu güzel bir kadının tiranlığı, zalimliği ve özellikle de inançsızlığı kadar körüklemez.
Writing makes me happy. But it goes beyond that. Writing is my life’s work. I’m absolutely positive that this is what I’m here to do. Even if it turns out that I don’t have the ability, and no one out there wants to read a single word of it, there’s nothing I can do about this feeling. I can’t make it go away
That bird knew nothing but scents of dear freedom,
What did it know about our high literary wisdom,
Celebrating one day just as good as another,
Seasons dictate its course - mother nature's daughter,
Seasons dictate its course - does it ever wonder?
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Soylu bir yaradılış hemen kolaycacık talihinden şikayet etmez; tam tersine Hamlet'in Horatio'yu övmek için söyledikleri onun için de geçerli olacaktır:
for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing
(“Çünkü sen her şeyi çektin
ama hiçbirini göstermedin”.)
Sayfa 48
