JESSIE: I’m going to kill myself, Mama.
MAMA (returning to the sofa): Very funny. Very funny.
JESSIE: I am.
MAMA: You are not! Don’t even say such a thing, Jessie.
JESSIE: How would you know if I didn’t say it? You want it to be a surprise? You’re lying in your bed or maybe you’re just brushing your teeth and you hear this… noise down the hall?
MAMA: Kill yourself.
JESSIE: Shoot myself.
MAMA: It must be time for your medicine.
JESSIE: Took it already.
MAMA: What’s the matter with you?
JESSIE: Not a thing. Feel fine.
MAMA: You feel fine. You're just going to kill yourself.
JESSIE: Waited until I felt good enough, in fact.
MAMA: Don't make jokes, Jessie. I'm too old for jokes.
JESSIE: It's not a joke, Mama. Mama, I know you used to ride the bus. Riding the bus and it's hot and bumpy and crowded and too noisy and more than anything in the world you want to get off and the only reason in the world you don't get off is it's still fifty blocks from where you're going? Well, I can get off right now if I want to, because even if I ride fifty more years and get off then, it's the same place when I step down to it. Whenever I feel like it, I can get off. As soon as I've had enough, it's my stop. I've had enough.
If I can see it, then I can do it
Eğer görebiliyorsam, yapabilirim
If I just believe it, theres nothing to it
Eğer inanırsam, ulaşmama hiç bir şey kalmaz
I believe I can fly
Uçabileceğime inanıyorum
I believe I can touch the sky
Gökyüzüne dokunabileceğime
I think about it every nightday
Her gün ve her gece bunu düşünürüm
Spread my wingsfly away
Kanatlarımı açıp uzaklara uçmak
I believe I can fly
Uçabileceğime inanıyorum........
“I love you," he said.
She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and black, then looked away. "I know," she said.
He pulled one of his arms out from under her and traced her outline against the couch. He could spend all day like this, running his hand down her ribs, into her waist, out to her hips and back again.... If he had all day, he would. If she weren't made of so many other miracles.
"You know?" he repeated. She smiled, so he kissed her. "You're not the Han Solo in this relationship, you know."
"I'm totally the Han Solo," she whispered. It was good to hear her. It was good to remember it was Eleanor under all this new flesh.
"Well, I'm not the Princess Leia," he said.
"Don't get so hung up on gender roles," Eleanor said.
"I just can't believe that life would give us to each other" he said, "and then take it back. "I can" she said. "Life's a bastard."
"Are you okay?" she heard someone -Levi?- ask. "Hey... are you crying?"
Cath ran her fingers along the cover, over the raised gold type.
Then someone else ran right into her, pushing the book into Cath's chest. Pushing two books into her chest. Cath looked up just as Wren threw an arm around her.
"They're both crying," Cath heard Reagan say. "I can't even watch."
Cath freed an arm to wrap around her sister. "I can't believe it's really over," she whispered.
Wren held her tight and shook her head. She really was crying, too. "Don't be so melodramatic, Cath," Wren laughed hoarsely. "It's never over... It's Simon."
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"Dad..."
He turned around, suddenly concerned. "Are you pregnant? Are you gay? I'd rather you were gay than pregnant. Unless you're pregnant. Then we'll deal. Whatever it is, we'll deal. Are you pregnant?"
"No," Cath said.
"Okay..." He leaned back against the sink and began tapping wet fingers against the counter.
"I'm not gay either."
"What does that leave?"
"Um... school, I guess."
"You're having problems in school? I don't believe that. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"
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"If it tries to take you," Wren said. "I won't let go."
A few months later, Cath gave that line to Simon in a scene about Baz's bloodlust. Wren was still writing with Cath back then, and when she got to the line, she snorted.
"I'm here for you if you go manic," Wren said. "But you're on your own if you become a vampire."
"What good are you anyway?" Cath said. Their dad was home by then. And better. And Cath didn't feel, for the moment, like her DNA was a trap ready to snap closed on her.
"Apparently, I'm good for something," Wren said. "You keep stealing all my best lines."
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She spent an hour writing a conversation between a man and his wife. And then she realized there was no rising or falling action; the man and his wife were just arguing about Brussels sprouts, ant the Brussels sprouts weren't a metaphor for anything deeper.
Then she started a story about a couple's breakup, from the perspective of their dog.
And then she started a story where a dog intentionally destroys a marriage. And then she stopped because she wasn't all that interested in dogs. Or married people.
...
Maybe she could take a Simon/Baz story and change all the material details. Simon is a lawyer, and Baz is a spy. Simon is a cop, and Baz owns a bakery. Simon likes Brussels sprouts, and Baz is a dog.
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1 x 0.618 = 0.618 = 0+6+1+8=15 = 1+5 = 6
2 x 0.618 = 1.236 = 1+2+3+6=12 = 1+2 = 3
3 x 0.618 = 1.854 = 1+8+5+4=18 = 1+8 = 9
4 x 0.618 = 2.472 = 2+4+7+2=15 = 1+5 = 6
5 x 0.618 = 3.090 = 3+0+9+0=12 = 1+2 = 3
6 x 0.618 = 3.708 = 3+7+0+8=18 = 1+8 = 9
7 x 0.618 = 4.326 = 4+3+2+6=15 = 1+5 = 6
8 x 0.618 = 4.944 = 4+9+4+4=21 = 2+1 = 3
9 x 0.618 = 5.562 = 5+5+6+2=18 = 1+8 = 9
If you only knew the magnificence of the 3, 6 and 9, then you
would have a key to the Universe.
~ Nicola Tesla ~
Sadece 3, 6 ve 9 numaralarının büyüsünü bilseydik, evrenin anahtarına sahip olurduk.
I soon learned to know this flower better. On the little prince’s planet the flowers had always been very simple. They had only one ring of petals; they took up no room at all; they were a trouble to nobody. One morning they would appear in the grass, and by night they would have faded peacefully away. But one day, from a seed blown from no one
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But it happened that after walking for a long time through sand, and rocks, and snow, the little prince at last came upon a road. And all roads lead to the abodes of men.
“Good morning,” he said.
He was standing before a garden, all a-bloom with roses.
“Good morning,” said the roses.
The little prince gazed at them. They all looked like his flower.
“Who are you?” he demanded, thunderstruck.
“We are roses,” the roses said.
And he was overcome with sadness. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in all the universe. And here were five thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden!
“She would be very much annoyed,” he said to himself, “if she should see that . . . She would cough most dreadfully, and she would pretend that she was dying, to avoid being laughed at. And I should be obliged to pretend that I was nursing her back to life–for if I did not do that, to humble myself also, she would really allow herself to die. . .”
Then he went on with his reflections: “I thought that I was rich, with a flower that was unique in all the world; and all I had was a common rose. A common rose, and three volcanoes that come up to my knees–and one of them perhaps extinct forever . . . That doesn’t make me a very great prince . . .”
And he lay down in the grass and cried.
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It was then that the fox appeared.
“Good morning,” said the fox.
“Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
“I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.”
“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”
“I am a fox,” the
Chapter 21Kitabı okuyacak
If you were to say to the grown-ups : ' I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof,' they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. Yo would have to say to them: ' I saw a house that cost $20000.' Then they would exclaim : ' Oh, what a pretty house that is!'"
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