“All the same that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park...then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was! -- that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.”
“An offering for the sake of offering, perhaps. Anyhow, it was her gift. Nothing else had she of the slightest importance; could not think, write, even play the piano. She muddled Armenians and Turks; loved success; hated discomfort; must be liked; talked oceans of nonsense: and to this day, ask her what the Equator was, and she did not know.All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!-that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant . . .”
“After that, how unbelievable death was! - that is must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all.”
“Marry on Monday for health, Tuesday for wealth,Wednesday the best day of all,Thursday for crosses,Friday for losses, and Saturday for no luck at all.”
“It happens that the stage sets collapse. Rising, streetcar, four hours in the office or the factory, meal, streetcar, four hours of work, meal, sleep, and Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday and Saturday according to the same rhythm – this path is easily followed most of the time. But one day the “why” arises and everything begins in that weariness tinged with amazement.”
“I had it together on Sunday.By Monday at noon it had cracked.On Tuesday debrisWas descending on me.And by Wednesday no part was intact.On Thursday I picked up some pieces.On Friday I picked up the rest.By Saturday, late,It was almost set straight.And on Sunday the world was impressedWith how well I had got it together.”