But when a conflict has been going on for long enough it can be impossible to sort out, for the simple reason that no one can remember how it first started. And Ove didn't know how it first started. He only knew how it ended.
Fredrik Backman
No one saw it, of course, but there was no need for anyone to see it. A job well done is a reward in its own right
Fizzy-drink cans are magical in this way-they can transform parking areas into soccer pitches by their mere existence.
Yet it's there, flung down there on the map halfway between the lower left corner and its center, and next to it is written, "You are here." Sometimes it's easier to go on living, not even knowing who you are, when at least you know precisely where you are while you go on not knowing.
We can't protect our children.
You don't have to support Liverpool from the day you're born, Coach. You can learn to do it when you're grown up.
It's a peculiar sort of angst, the one he lives with, knowing that you had the greatest moment in your life at the age of seventeen. While he was growing up everyone kept telling him
Minden házasságnak van rossz oldala, mert minden embernek vannak gyengeségei. Minden ember, aki együtt él egy másikkal, különféleképp kezeli ezeket a gyengeségeket. Van, aki úgy tekint rájuk, mint nagyon nehéz bútorokra, és egyszerűen megtanulja körbetakarÃtani mindet. Fenntartani a látszatot. Persze tudja, hogy a kosz összegyűlik alatta, de ezt sikerül kiverni a fejébÅ‘l, a lényeg, hogy a vendégek ne lássák. Egy nap aztán valaki engedély nélkül arrébb tolja a bútort, és minden elÅ‘kerül. A kosz, a repedések. Maradandó sérülések a parkettán. Akkor már túl késÅ‘.
I always knew who I was with you. You were my shortcut
We are always optimists when it comes to time;
Never in my life have I asked myself how I fell in love with her, Noahnoah. Only the other way around.
We always remember, more sharply than anything else, the last happy moment before everything fell apart.
But Sonja loved Ernest so unconditionally that Ove managed to keep this kind of perfectly sensible observation to himself. He knew better than to speak ill of what she loved; after all he understood very keenly how it was to receive her love when no one else could understand why he was worthy of it.
Being a good parent is hard. There's a lot of trial and error. In my case, quite a lot of the latter... And one thing you're never lacking once you become a parent is people criticizing you. Because children aren't just children these days, you know, you're identity markers. No one knows quite how that happened. Ten thousand year of sexual experience, and suddenly my generation decides that we're going to carry you out of the maternity ward as though you were the Champions League Cup. As though we were the first people in the history of the world who figured out how reproduction works. We don't even need to be 'good' parents any more, I think. That's passed now. We make do with 'not horible' by this point... And of the few ways we can convince ourselves that we're actually decent as parents is by making other people seem like bad parents. And we can be pretty damn creative when it comes down to it. If it isn't the food or the toys or the fact that the child sometimes has to stay at nursery until quarter past three in the afternoon then it's the non-organic plastic in whatever the hell piece of furniture that hasn't been given some certificate by some department in Brussels. 'Oh? YOu let your child play with THAT? Ah, well, me personally, I would rather my child didn't get brain cancer.. But it's nice that everyone can raise their children in their own way, isn't it?' That's how we bring each other down.
Everything seems obvious in hindsight!
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