Hatred Would Have Been Easier. With Hatred, I Would Have Known What To Do.

“Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do.”

— Margaret Atwood, from ‘Cat’s Eye’, first published in 1988.

“It’s bad for me, but I need to remember what bad for me is like.”

— Margaret Atwood, from ‘Cat’s Eye’, first published in 1988.

“Inside, where I can’t get at it. Where I’ll never be able to scrape it off.”

— Han Kang, as translated by Deborah Smith, from ‘Human Acts’, first published in 2014.

“There is surprisingly little to enter, in this immense bright smoky landscape, and what she wants—someplace private, silent, where she can read, where she can think— is not readily available. If she goes to a store or restaurant, she’ll have to perform—she’ll have to pretend to need or want something that does not, in any way, interest her. She’ll have to move in an orderly fashion; she’ll have to examine merchandise and refuse offers of help, or she’ll have to sit at a table, order something, consume it, and leave. If she simply parks her car somewhere and sits there, a woman alone, she’ll be vulnerable to criminals and to those who’ll try to protect her from criminals. She’ll be too exposed; she’ll look too peculiar. Even a library would be too public, as would a park.”

—

Michael Cunningham, from ‘The Hours’, first published in 1998.

“But to have a proper cry over all these things would take a long time. All the same, the time for it had come. She must do it. She couldn’t put it off any longer; she couldn’t wait any more. Where could she go? […].  She couldn’t go home; Ethel was there. It would frighten Ethel out of her life. She  couldn’t sit on a bench anywhere; people would come asking her questions. She couldn't  possibly go back to the gentleman’s flat; she had no right to cry in strangers’ houses. If  she sat on some steps a policeman would speak to her.  Oh, wasn’t there anywhere where she could hide and keep herself to herself and stay as  long as she liked, not disturbing anybody, and nobody worrying her? Wasn’t there anywhere in the world where she could have her cry out—at last? […].  And now it began to rain. There was nowhere.

 ̶  Katherine Mansfield, from ‘Ma Parker’, first published in 1921.

“But if he escapes, he cannot rebuild, and if he rebuilds, he cannot escape.”

— Franz Kafka, from ‘Letter to the Father’ , posthumously published in 1952.

“Lovely, lovely hair. And such a mass of it. It had the colour of fresh fallen leaves, brown and red with a glint of yellow. When she did it in a long plait she felt it on her backbone like a long snake.”

— Katherine Mansfield, from ‘Prelude’, first published in 1918.