Know what we did, Lucy? You and me? We spent our whole lives yearning. Isn't that the God damndest thing?
Richard YatesRead
The Revolutionary Hill Estates had not been designed to accommodate a tragedy. Even at night, as if on purpose, the development held no looming shadows and no gaunt silhouettes. It was invincibly cheerful, a toyland of white and pastel houses whose bright, uncurtained windows winked blandly through a dappling of green and yellow leaves … A man running down these streets in desperate grief was indecently out of place.
Interpretation
The quote depicts the incongruity of personal tragedy within a superficially cheerful environment.
In Richard Yates' depiction, the contrast between the bright, cheerful aesthetics of the Revolutionary Hill Estates and the deep, personal grief of a man highlights the unsettling nature of loss within a seemingly perfect setting. This juxtaposition serves to illustrate how external appearances can starkly contradict internal emotional realities, emphasizing the complexity of human experience in the face of life's tragedies.
In practice
This quote could be used in a discussion about how society often overlooks individual suffering.
Know what we did, Lucy? You and me? We spent our whole lives yearning. Isn't that the God damndest thing?
She was calm and quiet now with knowing what she had always known, what neither her parents nor Aunt Claire nor Frank nor anyone else had ever had to teach her: that if you wanted something to do something absolutely honest, something true, it always turned out to be a thing that had to be done alone.
He found it so easy and so pleasant to cry that he didn’t try to stop for a while, until he realized he was forcing his sobs a little, exaggerating their depth with unnecessary shudders. … The whole point of crying is to quit before you coined it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted
Do you know what the definition of insane is? Yes. It’s the inability to relate to another human being. It’s the inability to love.
It's a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.
She just happened to feel like it. Wasn’t that after all, the only reason there was? Had she ever had a less selfish, more complicated reason for doing anything in her life?
Everything is good as it comes from the hands of the Maker of the world, but degenerates once it gets into the hands of man
Watch them clamber, these swift monkeys! They clamber over one another and thus drag one another into the mud and the depth. They all want to get to the throne: that is their madness — as if happiness sat on the throne. Often, mud sits on the throne — and often the throne also on mud. Mad they all appear to me, clambering monkeys and overardent. Foul smells their idol, the cold monster: foul, they smell to me altogether, these idolators.
It is good to be a cynic - it is better to be a contented cat - and it is best not to exist at all.
The universe... is a machine for the making of gods.
As a Buddhist, I was trained to be tolerant of everything except intolerance
It is a curious feature of our existance that we come from a planet that is very good at promoting life but even better at extinguishing it.
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