Shinji Ikari: No one understands me. Rei Ayanami: You never understood anything. Shinji Ikari: I thought this was supposed to be a world without pain and without uncertainty. Rei Ayanami: That’s because you thought that everyone else felt the same as you do. Shinji Ikari: You betrayed me! You betrayed my feelings! Rei Ayanami: You misunderstood from the very beginning. You just believed what you wanted to believe. Shinji Ikari: Nobody wants me, so they can all just die. Rei Ayanami: Then what is your hand for? Shinji Ikari: Nobody cares whether I live or die. Nothing will change…so they can all just die… Rei Ayanami: Then what is your heart for? Shinji Ikari: It would be better if I never existed. I should just die too. Rei Ayanami: Then why are you here? Shinji Ikari: Is it okay for me to be here?
To be loved means to be ablaze. To love is: to cast light with inexhaustible oil. To be loved is to pass away; to love is to last.
What ruthless magnificence and yet how terrible to ignite love: what conflagration, what disaster, what doom. To be on fire yourself, of course, if one is capable of it: that may well be worth life and death.
People are so terribly far apart from each other, and people in love are often at the furthest distance. They throw all that is their own to the other person and fail to catch it, and it ends up in a pile somewhere between them and finally keeps them from seeing and approaching each other.
The more one is, the more abundant is everything one experiences. If you want to have a deep love in your life, you must save up for it and collect and gather honey.
A coral snake (red, yellow, black), a king cobra (jet black), and a sea snake: white with black bands or black with white bands.
It hovers above the ground like a jellyfish in the sea. Stomach up at 90 degrees perpendicular to the ground in a smooth curve, tail end horizontal, touching nothing, floating. Neck and head forked once more at another 90.
Eyes locked it follows him like a strange flying L through the grass, through the broken entrance to a run down theater with a flickering neon light as he tries to shut the door on it. It growls, it hisses, he freezes, it follows.
Grips it and the others, puts them in a mason jar, watches them squish around writhing, floating, shifting inside the small glass jar holding three snakes with three meanings. For now, keep them there until you know.
Finally, old Sally started coming up the stairs, and I started down to meet her. She looked terrific. She really did. She had on this black coat and sort of a black beret. She hardly ever wore a hat, but that beret looked nice. The funny part is, I felt like marrying her the minute I saw her. I’m crazy. I didn’t even like her much, and yet all of a sudden I felt like I was in love with her and wanted to marry her. I swear to God I’m crazy. I admit it.
Then, just to show you how crazy I am, when we were coming out of this big clinch, I told her I loved her and all. It was a lie, of course, but the thing is, I meant it when I said it. I’m crazy. I swear to God I am.
And he confided further, “In those days, I didn’t understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”
“I like long-haired blonds – Brigitte Bardot, Julie Christie. Kind of animal-looking. I like big breasts on a girl, and a big…behind, or at least reasonably prominent. I like her to be just a little heavier than what you might call perfect. Big eyes. Big lips. You can describe an ideal girl, and then you walk out of your house and there on the street is just the opposite, a girl in a short haircut and pants, and flat-chested, but she is fantastic. She is devastatingly beautiful and you marry her.“