“He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are coming out into the light and yet he is still alive. At once he storms the doorway that has suddenly opened for him in the endless corridor in which he has been bumping around for years; words spill out, cut off, confused, ashamed, squeezing out.”
In this quote from David Grossman, the character is experiencing a moment of realization and self-reflection. The character is astonished at the dark words that are coming out of him, yet he is still alive. This moment of vulnerability and honesty opens a doorway for the character in the endless corridor in which he has been lost for years. The words spill out, reflecting the inner turmoil and confusion of the character as he grapples with his emotions and thoughts. This quote illustrates the complexity of human emotions and the struggle to express one's deepest feelings.
In today's world of social media and instant communication, the phenomenon of thoughts and emotions pouring out into the public sphere is all too common. The quote by David Grossman captures the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability that can come with sharing one's innermost thoughts with others. In the digital age, where our words can reach a wider audience than ever before, it is important to consider the impact of what we say and the power of expressing ourselves authentically.
"He falls quiet again and tries to understand how he can be saying these things, how it can be that his dark words are coming out into the light and yet he is still alive. At once he storms the doorway that has suddenly opened for him in the endless corridor in which he has been bumping around for years; words spill out, cut off, confused, ashamed, squeezing out.” - David Grossman"
The quote by David Grossman elicits deep introspection about the inner struggle of expressing oneself authentically. Consider the following questions to reflect on the themes presented:
How does the concept of "dark words" coming into the light resonate with your own experience of self-expression?
Have you ever felt a sense of liberation or vulnerability when sharing your innermost thoughts with others?
In what ways do you relate to the imagery of "storming the doorway" and finally finding a release for pent-up emotions or thoughts?
Reflect on a time when you struggled to articulate your feelings or thoughts. How did it feel to finally let them out, even if it was in a messy and imperfect way?
“She had not known how to tell him that his loving whispers were always in her ears, like a story she’d been told, the story of a thing she did not deserve. But he understood. He called those thoughts “the baby teeth of a snake,” and swore he would rip them out of her, and pledged to prove to her that the opposite was true. And he didn’t even have to explain to her what he meant by “the opposite”; she knew it was the opposite of her.”
“Everything stops in her and sinks into silence. She drives slowly, foggy pictures painted in her mind. She has to open a window, but how will she withstand the rush of air? She can hardly breathe. She is frozen around a fragment embedded inside her. Only her heart is suddenly full of life, the only part of her that beats in excitement and goes out to Shaul, goes out limping, goes out hunchbacked, with Band-Aids stuck all over it, but goes out.”
“More than anything, more than anything she had with him, she missed the language they had invented, the likes of which she had never had nor would again. The thoughts and ideas he had birthed in her, his golden touch, and the words that erupted from her and became sparks of light to him.”
“Then a calm fell upon him. The gushing began from all sorts of places, all over his body. He heard pleasurable little giggles on the outer edges of his mind, in the dark creases behind his thoughts. He felt good, better than he’d felt in years. As if he were inside a huge embrace. And he felt as if he had finally reached the right place, his home, his motherland.”
“He was aware for the first time of how quiet the city had gotten. After dark the streets and canals seemed to empty out. As if Venice felt less of an obligation to pretend to be part of this millennium at night, and had reverted to its medieval self again.”
“And the blood pulses hard, too hard, and some sweet internal assailant comes and quickly shreds the muscles of her shoulders and neck, and soon everything will fall and dissipate, nose and ears and the three gray cells she has left, and with all her strength she tries to calm down, she must stop this, but she is unable to give up these heartbeats, the forgotten precise heartbeats which reply as an echo, and she remembers his hand upon the tablets of her heart, her hand on his chest--feel it, our prisoners are corresponding. But how? She is amazed. How did I let Shaul lead me on like this? Where have I been all evening? But she knows exactly how and where, what she was listening to and what her heart went out to. Look at you, she sighs. No, really, look at you, you and your reaching heart.”