Beatriz Baptista > Recent Status Updates

omg estou tão hooked

“I wish, anyway,” I said at last, “that you'd believe me when I say that, if I was lying, I wasn't lying to you.”

“For a woman,” she said, “I think a man is always a stranger. And there's something awful about being at the mercy of a stranger.”

“And I resented this: resented being called an American (and resented resenting it) because it seemed to make me nothing more than that, whatever that was; and I resented being called not an American because it seemed to make me nothing.”

“I feel that I want to be forgiven, I want her to forgive me. But I do not know how to state my crime. My crime, in some odd way, is in being a man and she knows all about this already.”

“(…) to those things, those places, those people which I would always helplessly, and in whatever bitterness of spirit, love above all else.”

"Tell me, he said, what is this thing about time? Why is it better to be late than early? People are always saying, we must wait, we must wait. What are they waiting for?

I guess people wait in order to make sure of what they feel.

In order to make sure!(…) It's clear that you are a true philosopher.He pointed a finger at my heart.And when you have waited-has it made you sure?

Why no, he said, reasonably, and looked at his watch, we can wait another hour if you like. We can become friends then. Or we can wait until closing time. We can become friends then. Or we can wait until tomorrow, only that means that you must come in here tomorrow and perhaps you have something else to do. +

Do you come in here often? asked Giovanni suddenly.
No, I said, not very often.
But you will come, he teased, with a wonderful, mocking light on his face, more often now?
I stammered: Why?
Ah! cried Giovanni. Don't you know when you have made a friend?

eu amo o giovanni

+ People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare.

Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. +

Perhaps he is a fool and a coward but almost everybody is one or the other and most people are both.

que escrita deliciosa yummy este é daqueles livros que mesmo que o plot falhe, só pela forma como o homem escreve já valeu a pena ler

“This is certainly what my decision, made so long ago in Joey's bed, came to. I had decided to allow no room in the universe for something which shamed and frightened me. I succeeded very well by not looking at the universe, by not looking at myself, by remaining, in effect, in constant motion.”

“I remember being absolutely astonished, at the still, cold center of the storm which was occurring in me, to realize that my father had been suffering, was suffering still.”

“Daddy, I said. And began to cry. And if speaking had been agony, this was worse and yet I could not stop.”

daddy issues gang 😎

Don't be sorry, he said. Just be careful next time. (…) You're all I've got, he said then, with a shy, pained grin.' Be careful.

And listen, said my father suddenly, from the middle of the staircase, in a voice which frightened me, all I want for David is that he grow up to be a man. And when I say a man, Ellen, I don't mean a Sunday school teacher
A man, said Ellen, shortly, is not the same thing as a bull. Goodnight.

“…one of those people who, quick to laugh, are slow to anger; so that their anger, when it comes, is all the more impres-sive, seeming to leap from some unsuspected crevice like a fire which will bring the whole house down.”

“…with no-one to watch, no penalties attached- it was this last fact which was our undoing, for nothing is more unbearable, once one has it, than freedom.”

“…she was drinking and watching, and that was why I liked her, I thought she would be fun to have fun with.”

I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France as night falls, the night which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my life.

começamos bem 😎

“Isto tudo são loucuras, sei perteitamente. Apenas no cérebro dum doido podem nascer tais pensamentos. Nós, os «homens de juizo», não pensamos nessas coisas, não pensamos em muitas coisas porque aceitámos a vida tal como ela é, tal como se convencionou que ela fosse; porque nos habituámos a ela. Raul não se habituou. Foi um desgraçado.”

“Ela foi sempre uma criança. As crianças esquecem tudo... depressa...”