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Quote by Paolo Lanzotti

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Il circolo dei congiurati: Un'indagine di Teodoro Valier (Le indagini di Teodoro Valier)

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Paolo Lanzotti

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“No, this, she felt, was real life and if she wasn’t as curious or passionate as she had once been, that was only to be expected. It would be inappropriate, undignified, at thirty-eight, to conduct friendships or love affairs with the ardour and intensity of a twenty-two-year-old. Falling in love like that? Writing poetry, crying at pop songs? Dragging people into photo-booths, taking a whole day to make a compilation tape, asking people if they wanted to share your bed, just for company? If you quoted Bob Dylan or T.S. Eliot or, God forbid, Brecht at someone these days they would smile politely and step quietly backwards, and who would blame them? Ridiculous, at thirty-eight, to expect a song or book or film to change your life. No, everything had evened out and settled down and life was lived against a general background hum of comfort, satisfaction and familiarity. There would be no more of these nerve-jangling highs and lows. The friends they had now would be the friends they had in five, ten, twenty years’ time. They expected to get neither dramatically richer or poorer; they expected to stay healthy for a little while yet. Caught in the middle; middle class, middle-aged; happy in that they were not overly happy. Finally, she loved someone and felt fairly confident that she was loved in return. If someone asked Emma, as they sometimes did at parties, how she and her husband had met, she told them: ‘We grew up together.”

LifeRomance
Book:One Day
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“I’m about to begin halfway saying that— —that she was incompetent. Incompetent for life. She had never figured out how to figure things out. She was only vaguely beginning to know the kind of absence she had of herself inside her. If she were an expressive creature she would say: the world is outside me, I am outside me.”

LonelinessIdentityMelancholyIntrospectionAlienationBleakPsychological FictionAbsurdismExistential AngstFeminist Literature
Book:The Hour of the Star
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“ქარბუქს შეეყარა შორიგზად, ვრცელ შარას მიჯნაზე ახლოს ჰიუდსპეტის ქაუნტთან, სადაც ძველად რკინიგზის საზოგადოებას უნდა ეყარა თავი. გრძელი საღამო ბუნიობდა სულნაკლულ მხარეში და არა უჩანდა დასასრული ლამპადთა ყოველ მომდევნოს, მაღლა იღერძებოდნენ რეზოლუტად როგორც მუდრი ნიშანნი უსასრულო სიხეტიალისა. ძველმანი პალტოს ქამარი შემოიჭირა ბალთაზედ, რომ ღამინდს არ ჩამოერთმია მისთვის ერთადერთი კუთვნილი ამაგი მოკვდილობის წინ, და როგორც მოხერხდებოდა ისე, ქანცი სიარულით სვლა განაგრძო სადმე უსახელოურის მიმართულებით, სანამ რა ჟამს მაგისტრალი არ ახვეტდა მის განაბულ სხეულს და არ შეისრუტავდა მას, როგორც გვარად უცნობი დაკარგულისა.”

LostNatureMysteryLonelinessMelancholyAgonyHopelessnessWandererEmptyness
Author:luka tsotsoria
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