There are two things that are particularly good at reminding us how old we are: children and sports.
Fredrik Backman
It's a strange thing, becoming an orphan at sixteen. To lose your family long before you've had time to create your own to replace it. It's a very specific sort of loneliness.
It's strange how close love and fear live to each other.
It's difficult to know when love blooms; suddenly one day you wake up and it's in full flower. It works the same way when it wilts-one day it is just too late.
Unfairness is a far more natural state in the world than fairness.
People who have never been hunted always seem to think there's a reason for it. 'They wouldn't do it without a cause, would they? You must have done something to provoke them.' As if that was how oppression works.
Culture isn't just what we encourage but what we allow to happen.
Maybe to her destiny was "something"; that was none of his business. But to him, destiny was "someone.
But the universe gave you both Noah. He's the bridge between you. That's why we get the chance to spoil our grandchildren, because by doing that we're apologizing to our children.
Perhaps one day the man in the black jacket will think about this too: why he only wondered if it was Kevin or Amat who was telling the truth. Why Maya's word wasn't enough.
What does it take to be a good parent? Not much. Just everything. Absolutely everything.
It's hard to care about people. Exhausting, in fact, because empathy is a complicated thing. It requires us to accept that everyone else's lives are also going on the whole time. We have no pause button for when everything gets too much for us to deal with, but then neither does anyone else.
A time like that comes for every man, when he chooses what sort of man he wants to be. And if you don't know the story, you don't know the man.
Ove glares out of the window. The poser is jogging. Not that Ove is provoked by jogging. Not at all. Ove couldn't give a damn about people jogging. What he can't understand is why they have to make such a big thing of it. With those smug smiles on their faces, as if they were out there curing pulmonary emphysema. Either they walk fast or they run slowly, that's what joggers do. It's a forty-year-old man's way of telling the world that he can't do anything right. Is it really necessary to dress up as a fourteen-year-old Romanian gymnast in order to be able to do it? Or the Olympic tobogganing team? Just because one shuffles aimlessly around the block for three quarters of an hour?
Anxiety. It owns us but leaves no trace.
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