Александрийский квартет

...обладает чисто бессознательным талантом обращать любой предмет в женщину: под его взглядом стулья вдруг мучительно осознают, что у них обнажённые ножки.

Город становится миром, когда ты любишь одного из живущих в нем людей.

Мания самооправдания в равной мере присуща и тем, чья совесть нечиста, и тем, кто ищет философского обоснования своим поступкам: и в том и в другом случае это приводит к самым странным формам мысли. Идея не спонтанна, ее выносят на поверхность подводные токи воли.

Любовь не терпит равенства — как ты считаешь? Кто-то один всегда застит солнце и мешает — ей или ему — расти; живущего же в тени постоянно мучит жажда: бежать и обрести свободу тянуться к свету — самостоятельно. Не здесь ли единственная трагическая составляющая любви?

Правда — столь горькая настойка, что знание вкуса ее — своего рода роскошь.

Она знала, что красота ее — всего лишь вывеска, презирала ее, но освежить не забывала.

Он не ответил. Он думал яростно.

But now, then, tell me — which of us was the greater liar? I cheated you, you cheated yourself.

All of a sudden there seemed nowhere in particular to go. Every impulse, every desire had faltered and faded out.

‘In maters of business, a diplomat has no friends’ he said stiffly, feeling that he spoke in the very accents of Pontius Pilate.

And here his sense of duty, like ill-fitting shoes, began to pinch him at every step.

Could anything as rich as memory be a cheat? He never asked himself the question.

‘ “You are tipsy” cried Liza again.
‘ “No. I am happy.” He said it seriously. “And happiness can’t be induced. You must wait and ambush it like a quail or a girl with tired wings. Between art and contrivance there is a gulf fixed!”

His real life became a buried stream, flowing on underground, seldom emerging into that artificial world in which the diplomat lives — slowly suffocating like a cat in an air-pump. Was he happy or unhappy? He hardly knew any longer. He was alone, that was all.

And then, like all the inexperienced lovers since the world began, he was not content to let things be; he must explore and evaluate them in his conscious mind.

He felt he was slipping, losing so to speak the
contours of himself. Is this the real meaning of education? He had begun transplanting a whole huge intact world from his imagination into the soil of his new life.

He felt he was slipping, losing so to speak the contours of himself. Is this the real meaning of education? He had begun transplanting a whole huge intact world from his imagination into the soil of his new life.

Lovers can find nothing to say to each other that has not been said and unsaid a thousand times over. Kisses were invented to translate such nothings into wounds.

Not to force time, as the weak do, for that spells self-injury and dismay, but to harness its rhythms and put them to our own use.

‘To intercalate realities’ writes Balthazar ‘is the only way to be faithful to Time, for at every moment in Time the possibilities are endless in their multiplicity. Life consists in the act of choice. The perpetual reservations of judgement and the perpetual choosing.’