The love I felt for her on that train ride had a capital and provinces, parishes and a Vatican, an orange planet and many sullen moons -- it was systemic and it was complete.
Gary ShteyngartRead
In contravention of my belief that any life ending in death is essentially pointless, I needed my friends to open up that plastic bag and take one last look at me. Someone had to remember me, if only for a few more minutes in the vast silent waiting room of time.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote expresses the desire for connection and remembrance in the face of mortality.
In this quote, Gary Shteyngart reflects on the nature of life and death, highlighting the profound human need for connection and remembrance. He feels that despite his belief that death renders life pointless, the act of having friends acknowledge his existence even at the end is critical for achieving a sense of significance and leaving a mark in the continuum of time.
Themes
LifeDeathRemembranceConnectionFriendship
In practice
Example use cases
Using this quote in a eulogy to express the importance of being remembered by loved ones.
More from Gary Shteyngart
All quotes →My hair would continue to gray, and then one day, it would fall out entirely, and then, on a day meaninglessly close to the present one, meaninglessly like the present one, I would disappear from the earth. And all these emotions, all these yearnings, all these data, if that helps to clinch the enormity of what I'm talking about, would be gone. And that's what immortality means. It means selfishness. My generations belief that each one of us matters more than you or anyone else would think.
Gary ShteyngartRead
That's what tyrants do, I guess. They make you covet their attention; they make you confuse attention for mercy.
Gary ShteyngartRead
When civilization takes a nose dive, how can you look away? You've got to be there. You've got to be at the bottom of the swimming pool taking notes.
Gary ShteyngartRead
Every returning New Yorker asks the question: Is this still my city? I have a ready answer, cloaked in obstinate despair: It is. And if it's not, I will love it all the more. I will love it to the point where it becomes mine again.
Gary ShteyngartRead
Then I celebrated my Wall of Books. I counted the volumes on my twenty-foot-long modernist bookshelf to make sure none had been misplaced or used as kindling by my subtenant. “You’re my sacred ones,” I told the books. “No one but me still cares about you. But I’m going to keep you with me forever. And one day I’ll make you important again.” I thought about that terrible calumny of the new generation: that books smell.
Gary ShteyngartRead
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