She is a woman of honour and smartness whose wild leaves out luck, always taking risks, and there is something in her brow now, that only she can recognize in a mirror. Ideal and idealistic in that shiny dark hair! People fall in love with her. She i...
I have spent weeks in the desert, forgetting to look at the moon, he says, as a married man may spend days never looking into the face of his wife. These are not sins of omission but signs of pre-occuopation.
I was a man fifteen years older than she, you understand. I had reached that stage in life where I identified with cynical villains in a book.
The Englishman left months ago, Hana, he's with the Bedouin or in some English garden with its phlox and shit.
-I think you are inhuman. If I leave you, who will you go to? Would you find another lover? I said nothing. -Deny it,damn you!
I went mad before he did, you killed everything in me. Kiss me,will you. Stop defending yourself.
Everything that ever happened to me that was important happened in the desert.
Because we want to know things, how the pieces fit. Talkers seduce, words direct us into corners. We want more than anything to grow and change. Brave new world.
If he could walk across the room and touch her he would be sane. But between them lay a treacherous and complex journey. It was a very wide world.
Do you understand the sadness of geography?
The trouble with words is that you can really talk yourself into a corner. You can't fuck yourself into a corner. "That's a man talking," muttered Hana.
He refused to believe in his own weaknesses, and with her he had not found a weakness to fit himself against.
She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.
She had always wanted words, she loved them, grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape. Whereas I thought words bent emotions like sticks in water.