...I never thought of anything but a long full life with my love, but a heavy foreboding hit me about two years into this planned ...bliss, when he said firmly that we must never go back to the fishing village where we had spent our first Christmas. And a cruel mixture of disbelief and sadness filled me as I came to understand how thoroughly and firmly he stood by his conviction, that if people know real happiness anywhere, they must never expect to find it there again.... So that year we went to Nuremberg, and the next year Strasbourg and and and, but we never returned to any place we had been before, because once, according to his private calendar, we had been there. And in a few more years we parted. You might say that we ran out of places.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
"If I hit him, he'll hit me too," Anton Petrovich thought in a flash. He pulled off the glove with a final yank and threw it awkwa...rdly at Berg. The glove slapped against the wall and dropped into the washstand pitcher. "Good shot," said Berg.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Anne: He hit me, Jack. My own brother, he hit me. Jack: Your brother's an old-fashioned man, he believes in a sister's honor.... Me, I'm Modern Man, the 20th-century type. I run.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Every one of my friends had a bad day somewhere in her history she wished she could forget but couldn't. A very bad mother day cha...nges you forever. Those were the hardest stories to tell. . . . "I could still see the red imprint of his little bum when I changed his diaper that night. I stared at my hand, as if they were alien parts of myself . . . as if they had betrayed me. From that day on, I never hit him again."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Women and men are different, after all. Being a mother isn't the same as being a father. Motherhood means that a woman gives her b...ody over to her child, her children; they're on her as they might be on a hill, in a garden; they devour her, hit her, sleep on her; and she lets herself be devoured. Nothing like that happens with fathers. You might ask me, What if a man tries to be part of the home--will the woman let him? I answer yes. Because then he becomes one of the children. Men's needs have to be met just the same as children's. And women take the same pleasure in meeting them. Men think they're heroes--again, just like children. Men love war, hunting, fishing, motorbikes, cars, just like children. When they're sleepy, you can see it. And women like men to be like that. We mustn't fool ourselves. We like men to be cruel and innocent; we like hunters and warriors; we like children.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
At about that time I was once sitting at my place and whispering--it was naughty, I know--with my neighbor. Then you, Herr Profess...or Rudner, got up from your desk, came calmly down the aisle to me: "Did you speak?" and slapped me smack in the face. And I--the fury is inside me to this day--I didn't hit back. Such were the methods of objectivity.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Madam your wife and I didn't hit it off the only time I ever saw her. I won't say she was silly, but I think one of us was silly, ...and it wasn't me.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
As usual with me I had some narrow escapes. While galloping rapidly, my fine large black horse was killed instantly, tumbling heel...s over head and dashing me on the ground violently.... I was also hit fairly in the head by a ball which had lost its force in getting (I suppose) through somebody else!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »