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once you’ve actually been in love, you can’t live with “will do”; it’s worse than living with yourself.
Nothing to do but laugh about it. True for everything.
On and on the plane convulses in the moonlight, like a man turning into a werewolf.
Isn’t it wonderful to get what you want and pay no price?
The tragicomic business of being alive is getting to him.
Twenty years of anything with another person is a success. If a band stays together twenty years, it’s a miracle. If a comedy duo stays together twenty years, they’re a triumph. Is this night a failure because it will end in an hour? Is the sun a failure because it’s going to end in a billion years? No, it’s the fucking sun. Why does a marriage not count? It isn’t in us, it isn’t in human beings, to be tied to one person forever. Siamese twins are a tragedy. Twenty years and one last happy road trip. And I thought, Well, that was nice. Let’s end on success.”
“we are being given an opportunity for a different experience than the one we were expecting.”
“She told me she met the love of her life,” Zohra says at last, still staring out the window. “You read poems about it, you hear stories about it, you hear Sicilians talk about being struck by lightning. We know there’s no love of your life. Love isn’t terrifying like that. It’s walking the fucking dog so the other one can sleep in, it’s doing taxes, it’s cleaning the bathroom without hard feelings. It’s having an ally in life. It’s not fire, it’s not lightning. It’s what she always had with me. Isn’t it? But what if she’s right, Arthur? What if the Sicilians are right? That it’s this
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We all recognize grief in moments that should be celebrations; it is the salt in the pudding.
Just for the record: happiness is not bullshit.
