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Quote by Karina Halle

“When I told my boss that I was coming here, you know what he said? He said, if it's just stage one cancer, then why do you have to go? And for a split second I almost agreed with him. Because that's what I've trained myself to do... And then I thought, wait a minute. Why does my mother have to be on her fucking deathbed before I go? Why do people have to die or almost die before we decide we need to make things right? So that's why I came. Because I should have come sooner and I wasn't going to wait until later.”

Quote by Karina Halle

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Karina Halle

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“It is not history. But I am beginning to wonder strongly what is the nature of history. Is it only memory in decent sentences, and if so, how reliable is it? I would suggest, not very. And that therefore most truth and fact offered by these syntactical means is treacherous and unreliable. And yet I recognise that we live our lives, and even keep our sanity, by the lights of this treachery and this unreliability, just as we build our love of country on these paper worlds of misapprehension and untruth. Perhaps this is our nature, and perhaps unaccountably it is part of our glory as a creature, that we can build our best and most permanent buildings on foundations of utter dust.”

“She had parents. People who loved her. Every human was a hyper-dense node of intense emotional and material investment. Speaking meant someone had spent thousands of hours cooing to you. Those lean muscles, the ringing tone of command - their inputs were from all over the world, carefully administered. The mere was more than a person; like a spaceship launch, her existence implied thousands of skilled people, generations of experts, wars, treaties, scholarship, and supply-chain management. Every one of them was all that.”

“He made me want to take charge of every aspect of his goddamn life. To make sure he ate right, to tuck him into bed on time, to fuck him when he acted up—and needed release. To bully my way into every aspect of his life so that I could ensure he was well-maintained and happy. To put that same dopey, needy look on his face like he was sporting now, all flushed and turned on—embarrassed by his own nature, but desperate to let go. Like I was the only thing that mattered. Like I was his world. And he was trusting me to take care of him.”