Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“Sometimes it has seemed to me that life is a series of punishments for such moments of unawareness, that one forges one¡¯s own destiny by what one doesn¡¯t notice or feel compassion for; that what you don¡¯t know and don¡¯t make the effort to understand will become the very thing you are forced into knowledge of.”
― Rachel Cusk, Outline

“All the same, it seemed to him now that that life had been lived almost unconsciously, that he had been lost in it, absorbed in it, as you can be absorbed in a book, believing in its events and living entirely through and with its characters. Never again since had he been able to absorb himself; never again had he been able to believe in that way. Perhaps it was that ¨C the loss of belief ¨C that constituted his yearning for the old life. Whatever it was, he and his wife had built things that had flourished, had together expanded the sum of what they were and what they had; life had responded willingly to them, had treated them abundantly, and this ¨C he now saw ¨C was what had given him the confidence to break it all, break it with what now seemed to him to be an extraordinary casualness, because he thought there would be more. More what? I asked. ¡®More ¨C life,¡¯ he said, opening his hands in a gesture of receipt. ¡®And more affection,¡¯ he added, after a pause. ¡®I wanted more affection.”
― Rachel Cusk, Outline

“Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of time that we suffer.”
― Andr¨¦ Aciman, Call Me by Your Name

“What did one do around here?
Nothing. Wait for summer to end.
What did one do in the winter, then?
I smiled at the answer I was about to give. He got the gist and said, 'Don't tell me: wait for summer to come, right?”
― Andr¨¦ Aciman, Call Me by Your Name