21 mar. 2014

Subrayados de una lectura. The Ocean at the End of the Lane

His mission and man‟s attempts to survive in a changed world were worthless. There was nothing: just an empty, dark tunnel he was supposed to plod his way through, from "Birth" station to "Death‟ station. Those looking for faith had simply been trying to find the side branches in this line. But there were only two stations, and only tunnel connecting them.

remember my own childhood vividly … I knew terrible things. But I knew I mustn’t let adults know I knew. It would scare them.’ Maurice Sendak, in conversation with Art Spiegelman, The New Yorker, 27 September

I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.

‘How do you know?’ She shrugged. ‘Once you’ve been around for a bit, you get to know stuff.’ I kicked a stone. ‘By “a bit”, do you mean “a really long time”?’ She nodded. ‘How old are you, really?’ I asked. ‘Eleven.’ I thought for a while. Then I asked, ‘How long have you been eleven for?’ She smiled at me.

once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed and breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, ‘Be whole,’ and they would become whole, not be broken people, not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping.

‘That’s the trouble with living things. Don’t last very long. Kittens one day, old cats the next. And then just memories. And the memories fade and blend and smudge together …’

I liked myths. They weren’t adult stories and they weren’t children’s stories. They were better than that. They just were.

‘You aren’t people,’ I said. ‘Are too.’ I shook my head. ‘I bet you don’t actually look like that,’ I said. ‘Not really.’ Lettie shrugged. ‘Nobody looks like what they really are on the inside. You don’t. I don’t. People are much more complicated than that. It’s true of everybody.’

Then, ‘I’m going to tell you something important. Grown-ups don’t look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they’re big and thoughtless and they always know what they’re doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren’t any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.’

Adults should not weep, I knew. They did not have mothers who would comfort them.