We are a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.
We are a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.
How easy it is to invent a humanity, for anyone at all.
It's his word against the Commander's, unless he wants to head a posse. Kick in the door, and what did I tell you? Caught in the act, sinfully Scrabbling. Quick, eat those words.
That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn't even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn't even an enemy you could put your finger on.
We lived, as usual by ignoring. Ignoring isn't the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.
I am in a room where things once happened and now nothing does, except for the pollen of the weeds that grow up outside the window, blowing in as dust across the floor.
It's impossible to say a thing exactly the way it was, because of what you say can never be exact, you always have to leave something out, there are too many parts, sides, crosscurrents, nuances; too many gestures, which could mean this or that, too many shapes which can never be fully described, too many flavors, in the air or on the tongue, half-colors, too many.
The bell that measures time is ringing
We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.
I am not your justification for existence.
I've learned to do without a lot of things. If you have a lot of things, said Aunt Lydia, you get too attached to this material world and you forget about spiritual values.
The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish drying on sand.
We thought we had such problems. How were we to know we were happy?
As we know from the study of history, no new system can impose itself upon a previous one without incorporating many of the elements to be found in the latter...
At moments like this I envy those who have found a safe haven in which to bestow their hearts; or perhaps I envy them for having a heart to bestow. I often feel that I myself am without one, and possess in its stead merely a heart shaped stone.
Better never means better for everyone... It always means worse, for some.
But if you happen to be a man, sometime in the future, and you've made it this far, please remember: you will never be subject to the temptation or feeling you must forgive, a man, as a woman. It's difficult to resist, believe me. But remember that forgiveness too is a power. To beg for it is a power, and to withhold or bestow it is a power, perhaps the greatest.
But maybe boredom is erotic, when women do it, for men.
But people will do anything rather than admit that their lives have no meaning. No use, that is. No plot.
But who can remember pain, once it's over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.
A bachelor, a studio, those were the names for that kind of apartment. Separate entrance it would say in the ads, and that meant you could have sex, unobserved.
A man is just a woman's strategy for making other women. Not that your father wasn't a nice guy and all, but... there's something missing in them, even the nice ones. It's like they're permanently absent-minded, like they can't quite remember who they are. They look at the sky too much. They lose touch with their feet. They aren't a patch on a woman except they're better at fixing cars and playing football, just what we need for the improvement of the human race, right?
A rat in a maze is free to go anywhere, as long as it stays inside the maze.
All you have to do, I tell myself, is keep your mouth shut and look stupid. It shouldn't be that hard.
As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories