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Never had anything as interesting happened to me. I suddenly had the impression that nothing had ever happened to me at all.
His silky hair, his Christian virtues, made him seem feminine and belittled him in my eyes.
But what gave her the greatest prestige in my eyes were certain unique characteristics whose meanings I have never understood: when she looked at a peach or an orchid, or if anyone simply said either word in front of her, Andrée would shudder, and her arms would break out in goose bumps; those were the times when the heavenly gift she’d received—and which I marveled at so much—would manifest itself in the most disconcerting way: it was character. I secretly told myself that Andrée was one of those child prodigies whose lives would later be recounted in books.
The wind enthralled me. I felt that from one end of the earth to the other, the trees spoke to each other and spoke to God; it sounded like both music and a prayer were piercing my heart before rising to the heavens.
I was getting older, becoming sentimental.
Is living nothing more than that: killing one day after the other?
We made small talk, like adults do; but I suddenly understood, with astonishment and joy, that the emptiness in my heart, my gloomy feeling of recent days, had only one cause: the absence of Andrée. Living without her was no longer living.
I wanted to know why, with so much emotion in her heart, so many things to do, so many gifts, she often looked distant and seemed sad to me.
What would I have dreamed about? I loved Andrée more than anything, and she was here with me.
she had no idea how much I needed to share everything with her. That was what saddened me the most: I had just realized that she had absolutely no idea of my feelings for her.
In books, I thought with sadness, people declare their love or hatred for each other, they dare admit to everything they feel in their hearts; why is that impossible in life? I would walk for two days and two nights without eating or drinking to see Andrée for an hour, to spare her any pain: and she had no idea!
How was it possible to believe in God and deliberately choose to disobey Him?
I had only one idea of love: the love I felt for her.
“Why doesn’t God tell us clearly what He wants of us?”
“I like roses; they are ceremonial flowers that die without fading, in a curtsy.”
“There’s still time to fight,” I said. “Do I have to spend my life fighting with the people I love?”
