Do you fall in love knowing that it will, by all means, end in heartache? I do. Happens every time I read Vonnegut. That doesnt really stop me though. Hell, I even got to know the purpose of life for being persistent.
“..purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” – Malachi Constant
Neat eh? Anyway, that is all I had to say here. But then you have taken a awful lot of effort to get here, it doesnt feel nice to say “Show’s over, move along sir” so soon. How about I say something else about Vonnegut then?
You are still reading, so here it goes. Sometime back I saw a face, a girl’s, that made quite an impression on me. It wasnt pretty, more like different. Much was I impressed by the face that I decided to sit down and write about it before it got lost in the usual banalities. It turned out to be quite a difficult thing. I sat in front of my laptop, racked my brain for the right words, dint find any, drank coffee, chided the impulse that was all for exagerrating, scrambled the cube, solved it, again fumbled around with a few more words, failed thoroughly, gave up, added it to my todo list and forgot all about it. Found out a few days back that Vonnegut had already written it for me.
“…she[Beatrice] did have a face — and an interesting one. It could be said that she looked like a bucktoothed Indian brave. But anyone who said that would have to add quickly that she looked marvelous. Her face, like the face of Malachi Constant, was a one-of-a-kind, a surprising variation on a familiar theme — a variation that made observers think, Yes
— that would be another very nice way for people to look
. What she[Beatrice] had done with her face, actually, was what any plain girl could do. She had overlaid it with dignity, suffering, intelligence, and a piquant dash of bitchiness.”
Let me add quickly that she looked marvelous.
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