just imagine living in a world without mirrors. you'd dream about your face and imagine it as an outer reflection of what is inside you. and then, when you reach forty, someone put a mirror before you for the first time in your life. imagine your fright! you'd see the face of a stranger. and you'd know quite clearly what you are unable to grasp: your face is not you.
she once again had the strong, peculiar feeling that was coming over her more and more often: the feeling that she had nothing in common with those two-legged creatures with a head on their shoulders and a mouth in their face.
no solidarity with mankind: that was her attitude. only one thing could wrench her out of it; concrete love toward a concrete person. If she truly loved someone, she could not be indifferent to the fate of other people, because her beloved would be dependent on that fate. he would be a part of it, and she could no longer feel that mankind's torments, its wars and holidays, were none of her concern. she was frightened by that last thought. was it true that she didn't love anyone?
THAT'S WHY I DON'T WANT WAR. I WANT PEACE. BUT NO MORE THAN PEACE. I WILL PASS BY YOU CAREFULLY, AND I WON'T TOUCH YOU, I WON'T EMBRACE OR KISS YOU. FIRST, I HAVE NO DESIRE FOR IT, AND SECOND, I KNOW THAT ANYTHING I DO WILL BE TURNED BY YOU INTO AMMUNITION FOR YOUR PISTOL.
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