Independent People

by Halldór Laxness

The boy and eternity, two friends, the sky cloudless and unending.

When life is a weariness and escape impossible, it is wonderful to have a friend who can bring us peace with the touch of a hand.

This was the first time that her soul was charmed by the power of poetry, which shows us the lot of man so truthfully and so sympathetically and with so much love for that which is good that we ourselves become better persons and understand life more fully than before, and hope and trust that good may always prevail in the life of man.

The rain was raw, summer far-waned, and in the rain there was the dreary beat that reminds one of everlasting waterfalls between the planets; it brooded oppressively over the whole countryside, smooth, smooth, over the whole shire, without rhythm or crescendo, overwhelming in its scope, terrifying.

“You’re a liar, a liar, a liar,” screamed little Nonni, laying into his brother with clenched fists as a tangible argument for the existence of another and better world.

THE MOST remarkable thing about man’s dreams is that they all come true; this has always been the case, though no one would care to admit it. And a peculiarity of man’s behaviour is that he is not in the least surprised when his dreams do come true; it is as if he had always expected nothing else. The goal to be reached and the determination to reach it are brother and sister, and slumber both in the same heart.

“It’s a useful habit never to believe more than half of what people tell you, and not to concern yourself with the rest. Rather keep your mind free and your path your own.”

Then suddenly he remembered that he had once intended, as a pastime, to count the wrinkles in his grandmother’s face. But now he found that he no longer desired to count them. He was going away without having counted them; but they remained in close keeping somewhere in his soul, all of them, each and every one.

The fact is that it is utterly pointless to make anyone a generous offer unless he is a rich man; rich men are the only people who can accept a generous offer. To be poor is simply the peculiar human condition of not being able to take advantage of a generous offer. The essence of being a poor peasant is the inability to avail oneself of the gifts that politicians offer or promise and to be left at the mercy of ideals that only make the rich richer and the poor poorer.