101
" ...I have always believed I cd diagnose this state of being in love, which they regard as most particular, as inspired by item, one pair of black eyes or indifferent blue, item, one graceful attitude of body or mind, item, one female history of some twenty-two years from, shall we say, 1821-1844--I have always believed this in love to be something of the most abstract masking itself under the particular forms of both lover and beloved. And Poet, who assumes and informs both. I wd have told you--no, I do tell you--friendship is rarer, more idiosyncratic, more individual and in every way more durable than this Love. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
107
" Tonight, he began to think of words, words came from some well in him, lists of words that arranged themselves into poems, "The Death Mask," "The Fairfax Wall," "A Number of Cats." He could hear, or feel, or even almost see, the patterns made by a voice he didn't yet know, but which was his own. The poems were not careful observations, nor yet incantations, nor yet reflections on life and death, though they had elements of all these. He added another, "Cats' Cradle," as he saw he had things to say which he could say about the way shapes came and made themselves. Tomorrow he would buy a new notebook and write them down. Tonight he would write down enough, the mnemonics.
He had time to feel the strangeness of before and after; an hour ago there had been no poems, and now they came like rain and were real. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
112
" You understand—in my life Three—and Three alone have glimpsed—that the need to set down words—what I see, so—but words too, words mostly—words have been all my life, all my life—this need is like the Spider’s need who carries before her a huge Burden of Silk which she must spin out—the silk is her life, her home, her safety—her food and drink too—and if it is attacked or pulled down, why, what can she do but make more, spin afresh, design anew—you will say she is patient—so she is—she may also be Savage—it is her Nature—she Must—or die of Surfeit—do you understand me? "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
113
" Така мина първата от тези дълги странни нощи. Посрещаше го с ожесточена страст, подобна на неговата, и с някакво познание, защото изтръгваше удоволствието си от него, разтваряше се, за да го получи, и се вкопчваше в него с накъсани животински викове. Галеше го по косата и целуваше слепоочията му, но с никакво целенасочено движение не се опитваше да му достави удоволствие като на мъж - и през всички тези нощи така и не стигна дотам. За миг му хрумна, че държи в обятията си Протей, сякаш тя изтичаше като река през вкопчените му пръсти и го заливаше отвсякъде като надигнала се морска вълна. Колко ли безброй, безброй мъже са си мислели същото, казваше си той, из колко ли безброй, безброй места в различни сезони, в различни стаи, колиби и пещери всички са си представяли, че плуват в соленото море сред надигналите се вълни, всички са си представяли - не, всички са знаели, - че са неповторими. Тук, тук, тук, към това го беше водил ритъмът в главата му, целият му живот... всичко бе клоняло към това действие, това място, тази жена, бяла в тъмното, това изпълнено с движение хлъзгаво мълчание, този дишащ завършек.
- Не се сражавай с мен - каза той веднъж, а тя напрегнато отвърна:
- Трябва. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
114
" Много по-късно той се събуди в просъница и реши, че чува морето, което от тази стая не беше невъзможно, но после осъзна, че тя безшумно хлипа. Протегна ръка и тя несръчно притисна лице във врата му - не за утеха, а с някакъв сляп натиск, за да забрави.
- Какво има, мила?
- Как можем да го понесем?
- Кое?
- Това. Това кратко преброено време. Как можем да го проспим?
- Можем да мълчим заедно и да се преструваме - понеже сме още в началото, - че разполагаме с цялото време на света.
- Което ще намалява всеки ден. И накрая ще свърши.
- Нима заради това би предпочела изобщо да го няма?
- Не. Именно към този момент вървя от самото начало. От мига, от който имам чувство за време. Когато си отида, това ще е средата, точката, към която всичко е водело преди и от която всичко ще продължи. Ала сега, любими, сега сме тук и тези други времена се случват другаде.
- Много поетичен, но неутешителен възглед.
- И двамата знаем, че добрата поезия е неутешителна. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
117
" e said, as he has often said, that [...] there is a persistence of the ancient Celtic belief that death is simply a step—a passage—between two stages of a man’s existence. That there are many stages, and this life is one, and that many worlds exist simultaneously, round and about each other, interpenetrating perhaps here or there. So that in uncertain areas—the dark of night, or sleep, or the curtain of spray where the solid beach meets the running Ocean, which is itself always a threshold of death for men who cross and recross it—messengers might hover between states. Such as God’s little dancing thing. Or owls or those butterflies who have been known to be blown in off the salt waters of the Atlantic. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
118
" He said, as he has often said, that [...] there is a persistence of the ancient Celtic belief that death is simply a step—a passage—between two stages of a man’s existence. That there are many stages, and this life is one, and that many worlds exist simultaneously, round and about each other, interpenetrating perhaps here or there. So that in uncertain areas—the dark of night, or sleep, or the curtain of spray where the solid beach meets the running Ocean, which is itself always a threshold of death for men who cross and recross it—messengers might hover between states. Such as God’s little dancing thing. Or owls or those butterflies who have been known to be blown in off the salt waters of the Atlantic. "
― A.S. Byatt , Possession
