"It's a funny thing about the modern world. You hear girls in the toilets of clubs saying, "Yeah, he fucked off and he left me. He didn't love me. He just couldn't deal with love. He was too fucked up to know how to love me." Now, how did that happen? What was it about this unlovable century that convinced us we were, despite everything, eminently loveable as people, as a species? What made us think that anyone who fails to love us is damaged, lacking, malfunctioning in some way? And particularly if they replace us with a god, or a weeping madonna, or the face of Christ in a ciabatta roll - then we call them crazy. Deluded. Regressive. We are so convinced of the goodness of ourselves, and the goodness of our love, we cannot bear to believe that there might be something more worthy of love than us, more worthy of worship. Greeting cards routinely tell us everybody deserves love. No. Everybody deserves clean water. Not everybody deserves love all the time."
- Zadie Smith
I can't wait to read this already, another item on my booklist. It's so important to be grateful for everything we have, even on days where limitations seem almost too much to bear. I've been lying in bed reading Marquez all afternoon and I can see the red leaves of the trees swaying in the wind gently, against the brilliant blue sky. I love the sky outside my window here in Uppsala, it makes me feel at peace.
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