Anna Karenina / death / fear
In Anna Karenina, Tolstoy writes that Levin feels no love for his daughter when she is born. Ok...I was going to try to paraphrase, but I'll have to grab the book:
It was the consciousness of another vulnerable region. And this consciousness was at first so painful, the fear lest that helpless being should suffer was so strong, that it quite hid the strange feeling of unreasoning joy and even pride... [p651]
This is a superb example of the reason this book intrigued me so: Tolstoy finds feelings that are so true that they are broader than the person feeling them, yet so unknown to us that reading them makes us feel that we not only know Levin better, but ourselves.
Seriously.
I miss my dad. Not a huge amount, but enough to feel a sharp pain when I think of his laugh; his soft, humble eyes; his huge, calloused hands; his lack of self esteem; his higher-pitched sheepish voice. And I'm terrified that he will die. I am terrified of that loss. He's on 54, but that's old compared to me. He's almost reached the horizon, and I'm still gazing at it from far, far away. It is easier when you don't realize how deeply you love your parents, because then you don't worry about them dying as much. When I think of him dying, my hands feel restless and want to grab on to something (on to his life, maybe) and not let it go; my heart seizes up, my stomach knots, and I feel a wave of the nauseas that feels like a sample of what losing them would feel like.
Losing my parents is unthinkable, and inevitable. I feel like starting the the crying, the sobbing, now - just to get a head start.
...he had been less horrified by death than by life... [p711]
It was the consciousness of another vulnerable region. And this consciousness was at first so painful, the fear lest that helpless being should suffer was so strong, that it quite hid the strange feeling of unreasoning joy and even pride... [p651]
This is a superb example of the reason this book intrigued me so: Tolstoy finds feelings that are so true that they are broader than the person feeling them, yet so unknown to us that reading them makes us feel that we not only know Levin better, but ourselves.
Seriously.
I miss my dad. Not a huge amount, but enough to feel a sharp pain when I think of his laugh; his soft, humble eyes; his huge, calloused hands; his lack of self esteem; his higher-pitched sheepish voice. And I'm terrified that he will die. I am terrified of that loss. He's on 54, but that's old compared to me. He's almost reached the horizon, and I'm still gazing at it from far, far away. It is easier when you don't realize how deeply you love your parents, because then you don't worry about them dying as much. When I think of him dying, my hands feel restless and want to grab on to something (on to his life, maybe) and not let it go; my heart seizes up, my stomach knots, and I feel a wave of the nauseas that feels like a sample of what losing them would feel like.
Losing my parents is unthinkable, and inevitable. I feel like starting the the crying, the sobbing, now - just to get a head start.
...he had been less horrified by death than by life... [p711]