Beautiful World, Where Are You

by Sally Rooney

Presumably, remembered suffering never feels as bad as present suffering, even if it was really a lot worse – we can’t remember how much worse it was, because remembering is weaker than experiencing.

Did he exist for her in that moment, and if so, in what way?

I wish there was a good theory of sexuality out there for me to read. All the existing theories seem to be mostly about gender – but what about sex itself? I mean, what even is it? To me it’s normal to meet people and think of them in a sexual way without actually having sex with them – or, more to the point, without even imagining having sex with them, without even thinking about imagining it. This suggests that sexuality has some ‘other’ content, which is not about the act of sex. And maybe even a majority of our sexual experiences are mostly this ‘other’. So what is the other?

I also feel certain it’s better to be deeply loved (which you are) than widely liked (which you probably also are! but I won’t labour the point).

I was tired, it was late, I was sitting half-asleep in the back of a taxi, remembering strangely that wherever I go, you are with me, and so is he, and that as long as you both live the world will be beautiful to me. I

And we hate people for making mistakes so much more than we love them for doing good that the easiest way to live is to do nothing, say nothing, and love no one.

I find it hard to believe anything really bad about myself when I consider how much he loves me.