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I Wrote This For You

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“What do I do with all this pain? Where do I place it? If I cannot give it to God, then who do I give it to? If I don’t get it out of me, then it will kill me.” ‘But I want to die, don’t I?’ Samyaza took his cheeks, held them. “You don’t want to die.” “I do.” “No, you don’t.” Samyaza’s thumb dragged along to catch one of Azazel’s tears. “You want this pain in you to die.” “I’m all pain now.”

LovePainDeathReligionLoss
Book:Angels & Man
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“When the old definitions are gone, he thought, how we grasp about for new ones! What am I, then? And what is this 'I' that asks? Despite their separation, the questions seemed one. Yet to articulate them was to be aware of the split between them, between the mystical that asked them and the historical they asked of, between the unknowable hearing them and the determinable prompting them, so that he finally came to this most primitive position: only when such a split opened among the variegated responses to a variegated world was there any self. But, on such a morning, where do I turn to find it (he wondered), to limit it, to seize it and secure it? Where do I look for a model, a mirror, an image of the questing self seeking self-knowledge? Do I turn to the corpse I'm out to meet who'll dominate my day? Or to the live and lusty youngster who slipped away in the night? Should I search in the ever-rising, ever-encroaching green and gray stuff of nature, or in the ever-falling, ever-failing stone and metal works of hand? Will I find it in my own body, which, though it is the register of all pleasure, whether of head or heart or flesh, is nevertheless a site of increasing ache and ailment; which grows more anesthetized to sex as it grows more sensitive to pain; which, no matter how bad it looks, always looks better than it feels?”

SelfPainSelf Knowledge
Author:Samuel R. Delany (introduction by George Zebrowski)
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“I’m pretty sure she’s got an angel job now where she plucks a large handful of flowers and carries them up to God where they will bloom even brighter than on earth.” Can we ask God to bring her back home?” You know what, she’s already home.” Starla patted her chest. “She’ll always be right here in our hearts.” But I can’t give her a hug.” Yes, you can . . . if you hug yourself or me or Willa or Daddy or Big Pop or GoGo you’re hugging her because she’s a part of us.”

LoveRomanceSufferingFictionMysterySorrowGuiltRedemptionFiction Novel
Book:A Kind of Hush
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