Caro: “Bite me.”
Ruby: “I gave that up in kindergarten.
Caro: “Bite me.”
Don’t think about who they [the Nazis] are. Think about who you are and what sacrifices you can live with and what will break you [Mother Superior to Vianne].
Do you love him?”
How would I know?”
It had been years since she question his fidelity, but he’d stepped on to the old fame track again, and that was where the road had taken them before. Infidelity could be forgiven, but forgetting it was impossible. Strangely, that wasn’t what bothered her the most. What bothered her was that she didn’t really care.
She pouted prettily, and he wondered if that was one of the things they taught wealthy young girls at schools like Miss Porter’s. If not, it had been passed down from one generation to another as carefully as the secret of fire.
Tragedy was like that, a razor that sliced through time, severing the now from the before, incising the what-might-have-been from reality as cleanly as any surgeon’s blade.
If I had told him the truth long ago, or had danced and drunk and sung more, maybe he would have seen me instead of a dependable, ordinary mother. He loves a version of me that is incomplete. I always thought it was what I wanted; to be loved and admired. Now i think perhaps I’d like to be known.
The measure of a man comes down to moments, spread out like dots of pain on the canvas on life. Everything you were, everything you’ll someday be, resides in the small, seemingly ordinary choices of everyday life…..Each decision seems as insignificant as a left turn on an unfamiliar road when you have no destination in mind. But the decisions accumulate until you realize one day that they’ve made you the man that you are.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed a dream, but it had transformed her, changed her from poor motherless and abandoned Tully to a girl poised to take on the world. The goal made her life story unimportant, gave her something to reach for, to hang on to
The falling apart of a man’s life should make more noise. It should startle passesrby with its Sturm and Drang. It ought to sound like the Parthenon crashing down. Not this ordinary, everyday kind of quiet…He closed his eyes…And still it was quiet, this falling apart of his life, as silent as the last beat of an old man’s heart. A quiet, echoing thud, and then…nothing.