“You ask about Sutcliffe?  I cannot tell you for how many years he lay silent, living a larval life in the cocoon of my old black notebook.  I did not know what to do with him – though I kept jotting away as directed.  It was essential that he should differ greatly from me – so that I could stand off and look at him with a friendly objectivity.  He represented my quiddity I suppose – the part which, thanks to you, has converted a black pessimism about life into a belief in cosmic absurdity.  He was the me who is sane to the point of outrage.  Often I kissed you with his mouth just to see how it felt.  He never thanked me.”

Lawrence Durrell, Livia (The Avignon Quintet #2)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s