“And, even if wars didn’t keep coming like glaciers, there would still be plain old death.”
We’re all waiting, in absence, for presence.
If you’d let me
I shall borrow
tears of sorrow
that lay impressed
on your cheeks.
There was no specific reason. My friend recently started reading The Fountainhead and she was loving it as she progressed with the book. She would quote sentences and tell me stories about the story and that was enough a reason for me to start with this novel. What did I start with? The last page of course. It has become a recent fascination of mine to see how authors conclude their works. It started as a bit of a personal activity. I sucked at concluding stuff. Maybe still do. Hence the last pages of novels, last couple of lines of various poems become very appealing to me in those desperate moments. Some, I must tell you are quite interesting. This time I thought I’ll post the picture on my blog to familiarise those who haven’t read Atlas Shrugged and as a nostalgic piece for those who have. I found that line “We are going back to the world” so good and appealing. That is really something to say. Usually what I do come across would be “they happily lived ever after”, “life continued”, people walking with sunset in the backgrounds. But “We are going back to the world” It’s so mysterious!! Like where have you been all this time that only now you’re coming back? It makes me want to expect a journey. Desolate earth? How intriguing is that! Not that it isn’t a common expression. But just imagining a desolate land brings in negative connotations yet the fact that they are coming back to the world somehow is positive. So it’s all very confusing. My brain cells are all fried up due to insomnia and I am of that 3 AM mentality right now for I think I am typing as soon as the thought comes into my head. But do ponder upon the few lines. It’s an interesting activity to do.
“And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own. We called each other familiarly by the name of cousin. No word, no expression could body forth the kind of relation in which she stood to me—my more than sister, since till death she was to be mine only.”
– Chapter 1
That moment when I started seeing Frankenstein for the romance it was.
Photo credits : Frankenstein Serigraph by Nino Carbe
“All I know is this: nobody’s very big in the first place, and it looks to me like everybody spends their whole life tearing everybody else down.”
One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. (Reading Next)!