don't look back in anger

“You tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake, but even when sleeping you could feel him traveling away from you in his dreams. So, what did you want to do, love? Split his head open? You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that, and if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful… something not everyone knows how to love.”

“How do we forgive our fathers? Maybe in a dream. Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us too often, or forever, when we were little? Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage, or making us nervous because there never seemed to be any rage there at all? Do we forgive our fathers for marrying, or not marrying, our mothers? Or divorcing, or not divorcing, our mothers? And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness? Shall we forgive them for pushing, or leaning? For shutting doors or speaking through walls? For never speaking, or never being silent? Do we forgive our fathers in our age, or in theirs? Or in their deaths, saying it to them or not saying it. If we forgive our fathers, what is left?”

The world is too brutal for me – I am glad there is such a thing as the grave – I am sure I shall never have any rest till I get there.