“Africa.That bird came from Africa.But you mustn't cry for that bird, Paulie, because after a while it forgot about how the veldt smelled at noonday, and the sounds of the wildebeests at the waterhole, and the high acidic smell of the ieka-ieka trees in the great clearing north of the Big road. After awhile it forgot the cerise color of the sun dying behind Kilimanjaro. After awhile it only knew the muddy, smogged-out sunsets of Boston, that was all it remembered and all it wanted to remember. After awhile it didn't want to go back anymore, and if someone took it back and set it free it would only crouch in one place, afraid and hurting and homesick in two unknown and terribly ineluctable directions until something came along and killed it.'Oh Africa, oh, shit,' he said in a trembling voice.”
In this passage from Stephen King's novel, the character reflects on the bittersweet memories of Africa and the struggle of adapting to a new and unfamiliar environment. The vivid descriptions convey a sense of longing and nostalgia for the homeland that can never be truly forgotten.
In this quote from Stephen King's novel The Dark Half, the character Paulie is reflecting on the idea of homesickness and the longing for one's home country. The bird from Africa serves as a metaphor for someone who has left their homeland and slowly forgets the sights, sounds, and smells of their origin. The passage highlights the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia for one's past, as well as the difficulty of reconciling conflicting feelings of longing for home and acceptance of a new reality. It conveys a sense of loss and inevitability as the bird ultimately becomes unable to return to its original home, symbolizing the struggle of finding a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar place.
In this powerful quote from Stephen King's novel, the character reflects on the idea of longing for a home that no longer exists, or that no longer feels like home. This theme of displacement and the struggle to reconcile past and present resonates with many people today, as globalization, immigration, and changing landscapes continue to shape our sense of belonging and identity. The quote serves as a poignant reminder of the complexities of nostalgia and the challenges of adapting to new environments.
This powerful excerpt from Stephen King's work prompts us to reflect on the theme of homesickness and the longing for one's roots. Consider the following questions as you contemplate the passage:
What does Africa symbolize in this passage? How does the bird's experience of homesickness reflect broader themes of identity and belonging?
How does the bird's forgetting of its origins highlight the impact of time and environment on memory and sense of place?
In what ways does the bird's ultimate rejection of Africa speak to the complexity of nostalgia and the human tendency to idealize the past?
How does the author's description of the bird's plight evoke feelings of empathy and sorrow for the loss of connection to one's homeland?
Reflect on your own experiences of homesickness or longing for a place. How do these emotions shape your sense of self and aspirations for the future?
“Because who would ever want to get close to another person if they knew how hard the letting-go part was? In your heart they only die a little at a time, don't they? Like a plant when you go away on a trip and forget to ask a neighbor to poke in once in awhile with the old watering-can, and its so sad—”
“Oh, sometimes I think it is of no use to make friends. They only go out of your life after awhile and leave a hurt that is worse than the emptiness before they came.”
“Oh shit, the mummy's after us, let's all walk a little faster”
“They came to sit & dangle their feet off the edge of the world & after awhile they forgot everything but the good & true things they would do someday. ”
“And the purple parted before it, snapping back like skin after a slash, and what it let out wasn't blood but light: amazing orange light that filled her heart and mind with a terrible mixture of joy, terror, and sorrow. No wonder she had repressed this memory all these years. It was too much. Far too much. The light seemed to give the fading air of evening a silken texture, and the cry of a bird struck her ear like a pebble made of glass. A cap of breeze filled her nostrils with a hundred exotic perfumes: frangipani, bougainvillea, dusty roses, and oh dear God, night-blooming cereus... And rising above one horizon came the orange mansion of the moon, bloated and burning cold, while the sun sank below the other, boiling in a crimson house of fire. She thought that mixture of furious light would kill her with its beauty.”
“A person can go along quite awhile if they get a good day every once and again.”