The dark scary servant of all evil was on his way to rescue me. Somehow that thought failed to make me warm and fuzzy.
What doesn't hurt - is not life; what doesn't pass - is not happiness.
Between the fear that something would happen and the hope that still it wouldn't, there is much more space than one thinks. On that narrow, hard, bare and dark space a lot of us spend their lives.
Of everything that man erects and builds in his urge for living nothing is in my eyes better and more valuable than bridges. They are more important than houses, more sacred than shrines. Belonging to everyone and being equal to everyone, useful, always built with a sense, on the spot where most human needs are crossing, they are more durable than other buildings and they do not serve for anything secret or bad.
One shouldn't be afraid of the humans. Well, I am not afraid of the humans, but of what is inhuman in them.
To be a man, to have been born without knowing it or wanting it, to be thrown into the ocean of existence, to be obliged to swim, to exist; to have an identity; to resist the pressure and shocks from the outside and the unforeseen and unforeseeable acts - one's own and those of others - which so often exceed one's capacities? And what is more, to endure one's own thoughts about all this: in a word, to be human.
If people would know how little brain is ruling the world, they would die of fear.
I love being in my kitchen. I'm quite a traditional cook, but I make a mean omelette. I'd like to open an omelette restaurant. Cheese and ham, chilli and mushroom, whatever you fancy, I'll rustle up.
Too often we tell kids pleasant stories devoid of truth, and stories without truth are not good stories. Our audience deserves more from us.
How a mother comes to love her child, her caring at all for this thing that's made her heavy, lopsided and slow, this thing that made her wish she were dead. . . that's the miracle.
I hope people will remember me as one who did her best - and who wasn't an anachronism.