April 29, 2011
“‘No,’ he repeated, and this time the word tolled in another voice, a king’s voice: not Haggard, but a king whose grief was not for what he did not have, but for what he could not give.
“‘My lady,’ he said, ‘I am a hero. It is a trade, no more, like weaving or brewing, and like them it has its own tricks and knacks and small arts. There are ways of perceiving witches, and of knowing poison streams; there are certain weak spots that all dragons have, and certain riddles that hooded strangers tend to set you. But the true secret of being a hero lies in knowing the order of things. The swineherd cannot already be wed to the princess when he embarks on his adventures, nor can the boy knock at the witch’s door when she is away on vacation. The wicked uncle cannot be found out and foiled before he does something wicked. Things must happen when it is time for them to happen. Quests may not simply be abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever. The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.'”
-The Last Unicorn, p 180
April 28, 2011
“But the skull was laughing again; this time making a thoughtful, almost kindly noise. ‘Remember what I told you about time,’ it said. ‘When I was alive, I believed–as you do–that time was at least as real and solid as myself, and probably more so. I said ‘one o’clock’ as though I could see it, and ‘Monday’ as though I could find it on the map; and I let myself be hurried along from minute to minute, day to day, year to year, as though I were actually moving from one place to another. Like everyone else, I lived in a house bricked up with seconds and minutes, weekends and New Year’s Days, and I never went outside until I died, because there was no other door. Now I know that I could have walked through the walls….
“‘But the important thing is for you to understand that it doesn’t matter whether the clock strikes ten next, or seven, or fifteen o’clock. You can strike your own time, and start the count anywhere. When you understand that–then any time at all will be the right time for you.'”
-The Last Unicorn, p 169
April 28, 2011
“There is a moment in your 20s when you know what it means to love rightly, but not how to do it, and then you begin to learn.”
– Just Don’t Connect
April 25, 2011
During my reading today, I came across this sentence: “This also is a very rare disease, but famous because its name is so memorable.”
When you put comments like this in your notes, you get massive points for honesty, but you also kill my motivation in one fell swoop. Just thought you should know.
Second Year Med Student
April 18, 2011
I don’t ask for applause,
or public recognition,
or even thanks.
I gave up all of that when I stepped behind the scenes,
ceded my place in the lights,
took on a new kind of role.
I only ask that, sometimes,
before you criticize,
or tell me what I should have done better,
you think about
the nights I spent awake worrying,
the afternoons finishing what no one else wanted to do,
the hours writing and cajoling and pleading
so you could take the stage
in a blaze of light and sound.
I ask you to take a deep breath,
think for a moment,
if you’re feeling charitable,
bite back your comment
– just for a while –
and give me a smile instead.
April 10, 2011
It’s Hell Week for yet another show, a show I’m incredibly grateful to be doing even with the craziness of medical school spinning around me, and I find myself profoundly exhausted. After spending the past week answering everyone’s questions (and making things up when I don’t have an answer), painting or building sets for three to eight hours a day, and slogging through rehearsal, I find myself depleted of both patience and enthusiasm.
The show will be wonderful; I know that abstractly, and I find myself reassuring cast members of it multiple times each day. But in the here and now, all I feel is the strain of everyone expecting me to fix things, then being frustrated when it doesn’t come off perfectly. Without a doubt, I’ll be a bit fragile for the next week, a little more prone to temper or tears. During a grueling orchestra rehearsal today, a line from a show I was in a few years back came suddenly into my head, and thus with David Hare’s words, I ask for a little understanding as I try to get through this week.
Irwin: That isn’t fair.
Isobel: No, it isn’t. I only say it because I’m tired. That’s why I want to go. Please? Is that unreasonable? I want to go because I’ve no fairness left.
-The Secret Rapture