The Price Of Salt - Tumblr Posts
first impression of Therese in The Price of Salt
Hit the (first?) sex scene in the Price of Salt and let me tell you listening to it on audiobook while in the breakroom at work eating a ham sandwich is probably the sleaziest way to experience it
Was life, were human relations like this always, Therese wondered. Never solid ground underfoot. Always like gravel, a little yielding, noisy so the whole world could hear, so one always listened, too, for the loud, harsh step of the intruder’s foot.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
The ground looked breathing and young, even though the winter had browned the grass. There had been trees and hedges around the school at Montclair, but the green had always ended in part of a red brick wall, or a grey stone building that was part of the school - an infirmary, a woodshed, a toolhouse - and the green each spring had seemed old already, used and handed down by one generation of children to the next, as much a part of school paraphernalia as textbooks and uniforms.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
Hundreds of feet below lay the tiny disorder of the abandoned mining town. There the eye and the brain played tricks with each other, for it was impossible to keep a steady concept of the proportion below, impossible to compare it on any human scale. Her own hand held up in front of her could look Lilliputian or curiously huge. And the town occupied only a fraction of the greater scoop in the earth, like a single experience, a single commonplace event, set in a certain immeasurable territory of the mind.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
Or to live against one’s grain, that is degeneration by definition.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
She had heard the piece occasionally in New York, but she had never heard it with Carol, and now the music was like a bridge soaring across time without touching anything.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
Therese frowned, floundering in a sea without direction or gravity, in which she knew only that she could mistrust her own impulses.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
Once they came upon a little town they liked and spent the night there, without pyjamas or toothbrushes, without past or future, and the night became another of those islands in time, suspended somewhere in the heart or in the memory, intact and absolute. Or perhaps it was nothing but happiness, Therese thought, a complete happiness that must be rare enough, so rare that very few people ever knew it. But if it was merely happiness, then it had gone beyond the ordinary bounds and become something else, become a kind of excessive pressure, so that the weight of a coffee cup in her hand, the speed of a cat crossing the garden below, the silent crash of two clouds seemed almost more than she could bear.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
People were watching the actress. Therese was flattered, terribly flattered, and the flattery got in the way of what she felt, or might feel, about Genevieve Cranell.
Carol by Patricia Highsmith (via wholesomeobsessive)
Moodboard: «Carol», dir.: Todd Haynes, 2015.