More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Do you suppose a mirror remembers all the people it’s ever reflected?
On another day, she has to tell him if she listened to music with that guy in Frankfurt.
The concertos of Bach.
Mozart’s D-minor Piano Concerto.
The Well-Tempered Clavier.
You know, Hans says after a long pause, that I wanted to pair each of the fugue themes with a sentence of ours? That was to be my birthday present for you.
Katharina says nothing. She turns twenty-one in three weeks.
So you really gave away our music to someone e...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
My music.
???!
I don’t know if I’ll ever want to hear any of those pieces again. Certainly not with you.
Boy, is that stupid.
Of course that doesn’t hold for you. You’re welcome to listen to them any time you like, to bring up the associations with lover boy.
They have taken the metro four times already, and every station boasts a different design, this metro system is almost as splendid as the suites of Sanssouci, the castle of Frederick the Great, at Potsdam. The tunnels lie hundred fathoms deep under the ground, and it takes several minutes to get from daylight via long escalators to the platforms; then there is pushing and jostling to get in and out, but once in the carriages, people are sitting and standing perfectly calmly in the crush, some of them reading books.
Simple people, laborers, office workers, reading. And good books too, not some crap.
Back then "crap" wasn't readily available. That's not the case today.
In school, they learned what the private ownership of the means of production signifies, what it signifies when a society follows the laws of the market, but they never thought of such things in the context of their own lives. If their institutions and their workplaces are to get through the autumn, they, the implied labor force in question, ought to have a different background from the one they currently have, they ought to be other than they currently are, they ought to become something that they are not.
It becomes ever clearer that the only true pleasure in stealing is in the act of deception itself, the illusion of power that it provides.
