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Quote by Fathima Valliyangal

“We say goodnight with quivering smiles Knowing none of us, are really strong inside, we're just pretending outside, you know? you just have to pretend a lot around here. the nurses, they watch every move. - Inked Confessions: The Untold Psych Ward Letters”

Quote by Fathima Valliyangal

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Fathima Valliyangal

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“I write letters because I want to convey to someone the stories of these people, but also because I want to let someone know that a day had existed for me as well. Letters, in other words, are like journal entries to me. The only difference is that the day does not stay with me, but is sent to someone else. Journals are monopolized, but letters are shared. Journals are kept by one person alone, but letters are kept by two or more people.”

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Book:No One Writes Back
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“20 June Y.W.-Q.M.D Dear Filbert, It's been quite a week here on Mount Gawdforsaken — today it is perishingly hot, windless, quiet as a tomb, lush and pretty. Every floral unit has its pistil aprick and petals atremble in a truly shameless fashion, for the bees are about. The whole hill hums drowsily... The paucity of decibels here is due in part to all six A-teams' departure yesterday for Milan...”

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Book:Infinite Jest
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“…And for my part I always find home depressing, not for its fault entirely, but entering it is to leave the harmless universe of make believe I inhabit & encounter the real world where children are reared & are a nuisance but will be alive after you are dead, & where people grow old & have to be looked after not because you like them but because they are breaking up, & where style in words & behaviour counts for nothing at all. But what I dislike about my bunch is that they are PHYSIOLOGICALLY AND PSYCHOLOGICALLY INCAPABLE OF ENJOYING THEMSELVES. They have nothing nearly so wrong about them as you say yr Mother has, yet they go about thrashing themselves into deeper ecstasies of misery till I want to shake them till their teeth chatter. Letters to Monica, 28 December 1950”

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Book:Philip Larkin: Letters to Monica
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“Certainly I understand Czech. I've meant to ask you several times why you don't ever write to me in Czech. I'm not suggesting that you don't master German. Most of the time you master it surprisingly well and if once in a while you don't, it bows before you of its own accord, and this is particularly pleasing, for this is something a German doesn't dare to expect from his language, he doesn't dare to write so personally. But I wanted to read you in Czech because it is part of you, because only there is the whole Milena (the translation confirms it), whereas here is just the one from Vienna or the one preparing herself for Vienna. So Czech, please. And send the feuilletons you mention, too. Let them be shabby, you have also read your way through the shabbiness of my story, how far I don't know. Perhaps I can do this, too; but if I can't, then I'll remain stuck in the very best of prejudices.”

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Book:Letters to Milena
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“The most beautiful of your letters (and that means a lot, for as a whole they are, almost in every line, the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me in my life) are those in which you agree with my 'fear' and at the same time try to explain that I don't need to have it. For I too, even though I may sometimes look like a bribed defender of my 'fear', probably agree with it deep down in myself, indeed it is part of me and perhaps the best part. And as it is my best, it is also perhaps this alone that you love. For what else worthy of love could be found in me? But this is worthy of love.”

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Book:Letters to Milena
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