You imagine the carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you is truth. That is just what it isn't. The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it's in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.
Jean RhysRead
I watched her die many times. In my way, not in hers. In sunlight, in shadow, by moonlight, by candlelight. In the long afternoons when the house was empty. Only the sun was there to keep us company. We shut him out. And why not? Very soon she was as eager for what's called loving as I was - more lost and drowned afterwards.
Interpretation
The quote expresses deep feelings of loss and longing for a loved one, reflecting on the complexity of love and death.
In this poignant reflection, Jean Rhys articulates the repeated experience of watching a loved one suffer and ultimately die, emphasizing the emotional weight of love intertwined with loss. The imagery of light—sunlight, moonlight, and candlelight—symbolizes both presence and absence, suggesting that even as they shared moments of intimacy, the impending loss loomed large, echoing the profound impact of love that transforms into sorrow.
In practice
In a eulogy for a loved one, to express the depth of shared experiences.
You imagine the carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you is truth. That is just what it isn't. The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it's in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.
If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.
The musty smell, the bugs, the lonliness, this room, which is part of the street outside-this is all I want from life.
Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.
My life, which seems so simple and monotonous, is really a complicated affair of cafés where they like me and cafés where they don't, streets that are friendly, streets that aren't, rooms where I might be happy, rooms where I shall never be, looking-glasses I look nice in, looking-glasses I don't, dresses that will be lucky, dresses that won't, and so on.
I must write. If I stop writing my life will have been an abject failure. It is that already to other people. But it could be an abject failure to myself. I will not have earned death.
Is it still cool to go to the mall?' she asked. 'I take quite a lot of pride in not knowing what's cool,' I answered.
I've seen of enough of people who die for an idea. I don't believe in heroism; I know it's easy and I've learned it can be murderous. What interests me is living and dying for what one loves.
From in the shadow she calls. And in the shadow she finds a way, finds a way. And in the shadow she crawls, clutching her faded photograph. My image under her thumb. Yes with a message for my heart. She’s been everybody else’s girl maybe one day she’ll be her own.
I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself?
Keep your heart open for as long as you can, as wide as you can, for others and especially for yourself.
But what happens when her beauty is torn from her like a cover from a book? Will he care to read her then, although her pages speak of nothing but love for him?
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