graveyard girl

“Melancholia ends up in asymbolia, in loss of meaning: if I am no longer capable of translating or metaphorizing, I become silent and I die”

“dear Antigone, I take it as the task of the translator to forbid that you should ever lose your screams”

“I have never felt so wretched–I really must have grown up too much. Earlier whenever you banished me I believed that we would meet again. Now I feel as if I’ve been completely torn away from life, as if there will never ever be anything else again. There is no life without you. I always said it, always knew it, now I feel it with my whole essence, everything, everything which I thought about with pleasure now has no value–it’s revolting. I’m not threatening, I’m not exhorting forgiveness. […] I know that there is no promise you would believe in. I know that there is no way of seeing you, of being reconciled that would not be a torment to you. […] How terrible it is to part if you know that you are in love and that the parting is your own fault. I’m sitting in a cafe and howling, the waitresses are laughing at me. It’s terrifying to think that all the rest of my life will be like this.”

There is a kind of pressure in humans to take whatever is most beloved by them / and smash it.

Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.