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Island by Victoria Hislop

  • Apr. 9th, 2008 at 5:29 PM
boooks
Little boat, unstable under weight of strange shapes bundles tied together with a rope, was shaking on the sea. Older man slowly stepped on it and while he was trying with one hand to calm down the boat, with the other he was reaching to help his daughter. As soon as she got on safely, he covered her with blanket carefully so she would be safe from wind. The only thing that was showing her as something more than part of luggage were prams of her dark hair dancing with wind. He untied boat with care from shore-nothing was left do do or say-and their journey begun. It wasn't a short trip. It was the beginning of one way journey, the beginning of a new life. Life in the colony of lepers. Life on Spinalonga.

~dancing in the dark~

Nora: Thank God for you, I need to laugh.
Dr Rank: So it seems.
~
Virginia Woolf: If I were thinking clearly, Leonard, I would tell you that I wrestle alone in the dark, in the deep dark, and that only I can know. Only I can understand my condition. You live with the threat, you tell me you live with the threat of my extinction. Leonard, I live with it too.
~
Shug: Yeah, Celie. Everything wanna be loved. Us sing and dance, and holla just wanting to be loved. Look at them trees. Notice how the trees do everything people do to get attention... except walk?
~
Lily Bart: You never speak to me.
Lawrence Selden: I'm never near you long enough.
~
Mômone: I could have been Edith Piaf. There's more to life than songs.
~
Ted Archer: The day before she died, she asked to see me alone, remember? She said she knew we were safe with you and always would be because once when she asked you to, you gave up the thing you wanted most.
Newland Archer: [after a long pause] She never asked. She never asked me.
~
Frank: What about you, is there someone else?
Kathleen Kelly: No. No, but... but there's the dream of someone else.
~
Olive: Do you think there's a Heaven?
Frank: Well, it's hard to say, Olive. I don't think anyone knows for sure.
Olive: I know, but what do *you* think?
Frank: Well... um... uh...
Olive: I think there is.
Frank: Think I'll get in?
Olive: Yeah.
Frank: Promise?
Olive: Yeah.
~
Andrew Beckett: This is my favorite aria. This is Maria Callas. This is "Andrea Chenier", Umberto Giordano. This is Madeleine. She's saying how during the French Revolution, a mob set fire to her house, and her mother died... saving her. "Look, the place that cradled me is burning." Can you hear the heartache in her voice? Can you feel it, Joe? In come the strings, and it changes everything. The music fills with a hope, and that'll change again. Listen... listen..."I bring sorrow to those who love me." Oh, that single cello! "It was during this sorrow that love came to me." A voice filled with harmony. It says, "Live still, I am life. Heaven is in your eyes. Is everything around you just the blood and mud? I am divine. I am oblivion. I am the god... that comes down from the heavens, and makes of the Earth a heaven. I am love!... I am love."
~
Rhett Butler: I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if a bullet gets me, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot. There's one thing I do know... and that is that I love you, Scarlett. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you. Because we're alike. Bad lots, both of us. Selfish and shrewd. But able to look things in the eyes as we call them by their right names.
~

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