Chris Benoit

“At times I think of human relationships as something soft like sand or water, and by pouring them into particular vessels we give them shape. So a mother’s relationship with her daughter is poured into a vessel marked ‘mother and child’, and the relationship takes the contours of its container and is held inside there, for better or worse. Maybe some unhappy friends would have been perfectly contented as sisters, or married couples as parents and children, who knows. But what would it be like to form a relationship with no preordained shape of any kind? Just to pour the water out and let it fall. I suppose it would take no shape, and run off in all directions.”
― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

“I looked at the internet for too long today and start.
ed feeling depressed. The worst thing is that I actually think
people on there are generally well meaning and the impulses
are right, but our political vocabulary has decayed so deeply
and rapidly since the twentieth century that most attempis
to make sense of our present historical moment turn out to
be essentially gibberish. Everyone is understandably attached
to particular identity categories, but at the same time largely
unwilling to articulate what those categories consist of, how
they came about, and what purposes they serve. The only
apparent schema is that for every victim group (people bom
into poor families, women, people of colour) there is an oppres-
sor group (people born into rich families, men, white people)
But in this framework, relations between victim and oppressor
are not historical so much as theological, in that the victims are
transcendently good and the oppressors are personally evil. For
this reason, an individual's membership of a particular identity
group is a question of unsurpassed ethical significance, and a
great amount of our discourse is devoted to sorting individu-
als into their proper groups, which is to say, giving them their
proper moral reckoning.”
― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

“That would be interesting. It's interesting to imagine you as a person more or less like me, trying to be good, trying to serve God, but constantly doubting yourself. Rationally, I ought to be able to build on that and find a way to forgive you. But as soon as I put your face to the person I'm imagining, I'm sick with hatred. All I can see is you having it both ways. Getting off on your power and feeling good about the fact that it worries you. Being an asshole and congratulating yourself on your 'honesty' about it. And maybe everyone does that. Maybe everyone finds a way to feel good about their fundamental sinfulness, but it doesn't make me hate you any less. It's the other way around. I hate you so much that I start hating all of humanity, including myself. The idea that you and] are in any way alike--it's disgusting.”
― Jonathan Franzen, Crossroads

“In general, Rebecca found something strange about the way his colleagues spoke at first—their language just seemed somehow flat to her, in a way she found it difficult to pinpoint. But as she got to know them better, she realized that they'd been socialized into a culture that valued precision in language above almost all other things. And so their speech was often stripped of the components of casual conversation that usually greased it: vague generalizations; idle chatter to fill the air; bullshitting and spitballing. A couple of times, Rebecca made some sort of trivial comment like "Hey, I haven't heard this song in years," or "Literally nobody liked that movie," and the response would be a flatly stated "That must be false," or "That is highly unlikely," or "That is untrue," delivered not in a particularly accusatory manner, as if she were thought to be a liar, but in a sorrowful tone, as if her careless talk deserved the kind of brief chastisement merited by a minor failure of character.”
― Dexter Palmer, Version Control