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“When the stars imploded billions of years ago, iron and silver, gold and carbon came raining down. And the iron from that stardust is in us today-in our mitochondria. Mothers pass on the stars and their iron to their children. Who knows, Jean, you and I might be made of the dust from one and the same star, and maybe we recognized each other by its light. We were searching for each other. We are star seekers.”

“Chciałem leczyć uczucia niezakwalifikowane jako cierpienie i niezdiagnozowane przez medycynę. Wszystkie owe śladowe emocje, porywy, którymi nie interesuje się żaden terapeuta rzekomo właśnie z powodu ich znikomości czy nieuchwytności. Na przykład poczucie, że znów kończy się lato. Albo uświadomienie sobie, że nie ma się już całego życia na szukanie swojego miejsca. Albo mała żałoba, kiedy nie udało się zbliżyć w jakiejś przyjaźni i trzeba znów szukać bratniej duszy. Lub też poranna melancholia w dzień urodzin. Tęsknota za zapachem powietrza z dzieciństwa.”

“Loving or not loving should be like coffee or tea; people should be allowed to decide. How else are we to get over all our dead and the women we've lost?" Cunco whispered dejectedly. "Maybe we shouldn't." "You think so? Not get over it. but...then? What then? What task do the departed want us to do?" That was the question that Jean Perdu had been unable to answer for all these years. Until now. Now he knew. "To carry them within us—that is our task. We carry them all inside us, all our dead and shattered loves. Only they make us whole. If we begin to forget or cast aside those we've lost, then...then we are no longer present either. " Jean looked at the Allier River, glittering in the moonlight. "All the love, all the dead, all the people we've known. They are the rivers that feed our sea of souls. If we refuse to remember them, that sea will dry up too." He felt an overwhelming inner thirst to seize life with both hands before time sped past even faster. He didn't want to die of thirst, he wanted to be as wide and free as the sea—full and deep. He longed for friends. He wanted to love. He wanted to feel the marks that Manon had left inside him. He still wanted to feel her coursing through him, mingling with him. Manon had changed him forever—why deny it? That was how he had become the man whom Catherine had allowed to approach her. Jean Perdu suddenly realized that Catherine could never taken Mann's place. She took her own place. No worse, no better, simply different. He longed to show Catherine the full expanse of his sea!”

“«Lo sai che fra la fine e il nuovo inizio c’è un mondo di mezzo? È il tempo ferito, Jean Perdu. È una palude dove si raccolgono sogni, paure e intenzioni perdute. I passi in questo tempo si fanno più pesanti. Non sottovalutare questa stazione di passaggio fra la fine e il nuovo inizio, Jeanno. Datti tempo. A volte le soglie sono così grandi che non si possono superare con un passo solo».”

“«Mi piacciono le parole che sono già una descrizione di se stesse», bisbigliò Perdu. Aveva gli occhi chiusi. «‘Brezza notturna’. ‘Ostinazione’. In questa parola vedo una bambina che lotta contro tutto ciò che non vuole. Brava, magra e leggera. La piccola cavallerizza Ostinazione contro le forze oscure della ragione.» «Ci sono parole con cui ci si ferisce», intervenne Vitale. «Sono come lamette nell’orecchio e sulla lingua. ‘Disciplina’. ‘Addestramento’. Oppure ‘raziocinio’.» «Raziocinio occupa così tanto la bocca che impedisce ad altre parole di entrarci»”

“Also, there is a dedicated community of people in the world who will always be able to connect with each other across all languages, boundaries, and religions. It is the “Readers’ Club.” People who read a lot, starting at a very young age, are people who were raised by books. They have learned about forms of love and hate, kindness, respect, and ideas that are different from their own. They experience the world as something infinitely larger than before. They enjoy the indescribable feeling of having found their true selves. We readers are book people, and Jean Perdu [the protagonist] is one of us. We are all traveling on an invisible literary riverboat, one that carries us down the stream of life. It shapes, holds, and comforts us. At”

“Oh no, she was never elitist. She said that far too many women are the accomplices of cruel, indifferent men. They lie for these men. They lie to their own children. Because their fathers treated them exactly the same way. These women always retain some hope that love is hiding behind the cruelty, so that the anguish doesn't drive them mad. Truth is, though, Max, there's no love there. Max wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.”

“-Jeanno, kobiety potrafią kochać o wiele mądrzej niż my! One nie kochają mężczyzny dla jego wyglądu. Nawet jeśli on się im bardzo podoba. (…) Kobiety kochają cię przez wzgląd na twój charakter. Twoją siłę. Twoją mądrość. Albo dlatego, że potrafisz zaopiekować się dzieckiem. Bo jesteś dobrym człowiekiem, masz honor i godność. One kochają cię inaczej niż mężczyzna kobietę. Nie z powodu kształtnych łydek ani nie dlatego, że w swoim garniturze budzisz zazdrość u jej koleżanek z pracy. Owszem, istnieją też takie kobiety, ale są tylko jak zły przykład dla innych.”

“Танго — це пігулка правди. Воно оголює ваші проблеми й ваші комплекси, але ж і ваші сильні сторони, які ви ховаєте від інших, щоб не турбувати їх. Воно показує, хто ви в парі одне для одного, як ви вмієте слухати одне одного. Люди, котрі хочуть слухати тільки себе, зненавидять танго.”

“...коли ти жінка й виходиш заміж, то безповоротно стаєш у спостережну позицію. Ти повинна контролювати все — що твій чоловік робить, як він почувається. А потім, з появою дітей, контролювати також їх. Ти стаєш сторожовою собакою, слугою і дипломатом одночасно. І така дрібниця, як розлучення, цього не відміняє. О, ні — кохання може прийти і піти, але турбота не припиняється.”