Después me imaginé a toda la panda dejándome en un maldito cementerio con i nombre escrito en una lápida y todo eso. Rodeado de tíos muertos. Jo, buena te la hacen cuando te mueres. Espero que cuando me muera alguien tenga sentido común suficiente como para tirarme al río o algo así. Cualquier cosa menos meterme en un maldito cementerio. Eso de que venga la gente los domingos a ponerte ramos de flores en el estómago y todo ese rollo. ¿Quién quiere flores cuando ya se ha muerto? Nadie.
Partway through, I thought about Serena Joy, sitting down there in the kitchen. Thinking: cheap. They'll spread their legs for anyone. All you need to give them is a cigarette. And I thought afterwards: this is a betrayal. Not the thing itself but my own response. If I knew for certain he's dead, would that make a difference? I would like to be without shame. I would like to be shameless. I would like to be ignorant. Then I would not know how ignorant I was.
William thus began: "What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society." "Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance." Sir William only smiled. "Your friend performs delightfully," he continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; "and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr. Darcy." "You saw me dance at Meryton,
But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam's occasionally laughing at his stupidity, proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would liked to have believed this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out. She
I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind—and that of the minds of the ones who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the beginning; when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or town.