The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge discussion


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Oyonehara "To be loved means to be consumed in flames. To love is to give light with inexhaustible oil. To be loved is to pass away; to love is to endure."

"And when I think about the others I have seen or heard of: it is always the same. They all had a death of their own. Those men who carried it in their armor, inside themselves, like a prisoner; those women who grew very old and small, and then on an enormous bed, as if on the stage of a theater, in front of the whole family and the assembled servants and dogs, discreetly and with the greatest dignity passed away. The children too, even the very small ones, didn´t have just any child´s death; they gathered themselves and died what they already were and what they would have become.
And what a melancholy beauty this gave to women when they were pregnant and stood there, with their slender hands instinctively resting on their large bellies, in which there were two fruits: a child and a death. Didn´t the dense, almost nourishing smile on their emptied faces come from their sometimes feeling that both were growing inside them?"

Matt "My last hope was always the window. I imagined that outside there might still be something that belonged to me, even now, even in this sudden poverty of dying. But hardly had I looked toward it when I wished that the window had been barricaded, closed like the wall. For now I knew that everything was happening out there with the same indifference, that outside too there was nothing but my solitude. The solitude which I had brought upon myself and which had become too vast for my heart to take in. I remembered people I had once left, and I didn't understand how someone could ever abandon another person."

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