"The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms



"Our lives disconnect and reconnect, we move on, and later we may touch one another, again bounce away. This is the felt shape of a human life, neither simply linear nor wholly disjunctive nor endlessly bifurcating, but rather this bouncey sequence of bumping into's and tumblings apart."
~ Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet



Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Rain: Dylan, Salinger & Hemingway...

“I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
 I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
 I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
 I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
 I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
 And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
 And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall…”
~ Bob Dylan




(Hard Rain ~ Bob Dylan, 1971)


“I’m frightened. I’m a frightened child. I hate this rain. Sometimes I see me dead in it.”
“My darling, isn’t that a line from a ‘A Farewell To Arms’?”
~ J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey



“It’s raining hard.”
“And you’ll always love me, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And the rain won’t make any difference?”
“No.”

“That’s good. Because I’m afraid of the rain.”
 “Why?”
I was sleepy. Outside the rain was falling steadily.
“I don’t know, darling. I’ve always been afraid of the rain.”
“I like it.”
“I like to walk in it. But it’s very hard on loving.”
“I’ll love you always.”
“I’ll love you in the rain and in the snow and in the hail and— what else is there?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m sleepy.”“Go to sleep, darling, and I’ll love you no matter how it is.”
“You’re not really afraid of the rain are you?”
“Not when I’m with you.”
“Why are you afraid of it?”
“I don’t know.”

“Tell me.”
“Don’t make me.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“All right. I’m afraid of the rain because sometimes I see me dead in it.”
“No.”
“And sometimes I see you dead in it.”
“That’s more likely.”
“No, it’s not, darling. Because I can keep you safe. I know I can. But nobody can help themselves.”
“Please stop it. I don’t want you to get Scotch and crazy tonight. We won’t be together much longer.”
“No, but I am Scotch and crazy. But I’ll stop it. It’s all nonsense.”
“Yes it’s all nonsense.”
“It’s all nonsense. It’s only nonsense. I’m not afraid of the rain. I’m not afraid of the rain. Oh, oh, God, I wish I wasn’t.” She was crying. I comforted her and she stopped crying.
But outside it kept on raining.
~ Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell To Arms



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