They passed out of the shade beneath the eaves and flew into sunglare and silence and it was an action she only partly saw, elusive and mutely beautiful, the birds so sunstruck they were consumed by light, disembodied, turned into something sheer and fleet and scatter-bright.

If everyone played their part, no one else would have to suffer, because He had suffered for all those who'd had the courage to fight for their dreams.

Nếu người ta biết gì đó về điều mình sẽ viết, trước khi làm điều đó, trước khi viết, người ta sẽ không bao giờ viết. Chẳng cần.

Written By Marguerite Duras

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