[], The Eyes Large, Nocturnal

“[…], the eyes large, nocturnal ̶”

— Margaret Atwood, from ‘Cat’s Eye’, first published in 1988. 

“I bet you had a secret life. I bet it kept you going.”

— Margaret Atwood, from ‘The Blind Assassin’, first published in 2000.

“At the moment, she can’t seem to speak. There is so much in the world.”

— Michael Cunningham, from ‘The Hours’, first published in 1998.

to become or to be?

TO BE

“There is surprisingly little to enter, in this immense bright smoky landscape, and what she wants—someplace private, silent, where she can read, where she can think— is not readily available. If she goes to a store or restaurant, she’ll have to perform—she’ll have to pretend to need or want something that does not, in any way, interest her. She’ll have to move in an orderly fashion; she’ll have to examine merchandise and refuse offers of help, or she’ll have to sit at a table, order something, consume it, and leave. If she simply parks her car somewhere and sits there, a woman alone, she’ll be vulnerable to criminals and to those who’ll try to protect her from criminals. She’ll be too exposed; she’ll look too peculiar. Even a library would be too public, as would a park.”

—

Michael Cunningham, from ‘The Hours’, first published in 1998.

“But to have a proper cry over all these things would take a long time. All the same, the time for it had come. She must do it. She couldn’t put it off any longer; she couldn’t wait any more. Where could she go? […].  She couldn’t go home; Ethel was there. It would frighten Ethel out of her life. She  couldn’t sit on a bench anywhere; people would come asking her questions. She couldn't  possibly go back to the gentleman’s flat; she had no right to cry in strangers’ houses. If  she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her.  Oh, wasn’t there anywhere where she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as  long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying her? Wasn’t there anywhere in the world where she could have her cry out—at last? […].  And now it began to rain. There was nowhere.

 ̶  Katherine Mansfield, from ‘Ma Parker’, first published in 1921.

“To arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration. Eviscerate me, we mean to say, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

— Ocean Vuong, from ‘On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous’, first published in 2019.