And that evening too, as I looked at her arm, into which there was flowing a life that was no longer anything but sickness and torment, I asked myself why?
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drowning her heart’s complaints with noise.
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All men must die: but for every man his death is an accident and, even if he knows it and consents to it, an unjustifiable violation.
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‘He is certainly of an age to die.’ The sadness of the old; their banishment: most of them do not think that this age has yet come for them. I too made use of this cliché, and that when I was referring to my mother.
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Time vanishes behind those who leave this world, and the older I get the more my past years draw together.
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Whether you think of it as heavenly or as earthly, if you love life immortality is no consolation for death.
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A hard task, dying, when one loves life so much.
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I would promise myself that this time I should find things to talk about, a common ground of understanding.
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The silence between us became quite impenetrable.
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Why attribute such importance to a moment since there would be no memory?