My noble father, i do perceive here a divided duty. To you i am bound for life and education. My life and education both do learn me how to respect you. You are the lord of my duty, i am hitherto your daughter. But heres my husband, and so much duty as my mother showed to you, preferring you before her father, so much i challenge that i may profess due to the moor my lord.
I hope you will love your baby. I hope it will be a boy. That husband of yours, i hope, will always treat you well, because otherwise my specter shall come out of him, like black smoke, like a demented giant, and pull him apart nerve by nerve. ... I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and i may share, my lolita.
It's sad if people think that's (homemaking) a dull existance, [but] you can't just buy an apartment and furnish it and walk away. It's the flowers you choose, the music you play, the smile you have waiting. I want it to be gay and cheerful, a haven in this troubled world. I don't want my husband and children to come home and find a rattled woman. Our era is already rattled enough, isn't it?
I have a passionate desire for personal privacy. I want to stand before the world, for good or bad, on the book i wrote, not on what i say in letters to friends, not on my husband and my home life, the way i dress, my likes and dislikes, et cetera. My book belongs to anyone who has the price, but nothing of me belongs to the public.
The wonder is that so many ocds manage to live productive lives, just the same. they work, they eat (often not enough or too much, it's true), they go to the movies, they make love to their girlfriends and boyfriends, their wives and husbands... and all the time those birds are there, clinging to them and pecking away little bits of flesh.
The state exists simply to promote and to protect the ordinary happiness of human beings in this life. a husband and wife chatting over a fire, a couple of friends having a game of darts in a pub, a man reading a book in his own room or digging in his own garden-that is what the state is there for. and unless they are helping to increase and prolong and protect such moments, all the laws, parliaments, armies, courts, police, economics, etc., are simply a waste of time.
An 'impersonal god'-well and good. a subjective god of beauty, truth and goodness, inside our own heads-better still. a formless life-force surging through us, a vast power which we can tap-best of all. but god himself, alive, pulling at the other end of the cord, perhaps approaching at an infinite speed, the hunter, king, husband-that is quite another matter.
I see that i hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. i see her, an old woman, weeping for me on the anniversary of this day. i see her and her husband, their course done, lying side by side in their last earthly bed, and i know that each was not more honoured and held sacred in the other's soul, than i was in the souls of both.