“He went over and sat next to her on the side facing the window. She ran her hand through his hair, lifting it out of his eyes, and he could see how skinny her arm was, almost like it was just bone and skin.”
“One of the greatest indignities about being old is that people insist on helping you with things like bathing and going to the washroom.
I don’t in fact require help with either, but they’re all so afraid I’m going to slip and break my hip again that I get a chaperone whether I like it or not.”
“I try to brush the hairs flat with my hand and freeze at the sight of my old hand on my old head. I lean close and open my eyes very wide, trying to see beyond the sagging flesh.
It’s no good. Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes, I can’t find myself anymore. When did I stop being me?”
“Bigger felt that he was sitting and holding his life helplessly in his hands, waiting for Max to tell him what to do with it; and it made him hate himself. An organic wish to cease to be, to stop living, seized him. Either he was too weak, or the world was too strong; he did not know which. Over and over he had tried to create a world to live in and over and over he had failed. Now once again he was waiting for someone to tell him something; once more, he was poised on the verge of action and commitment.”
“Let our hearts admit, “I am poor and weak. Satan is too subtle, too cunning, too powerful; he watches constantly for advantages over my soul. The world presses in upon me with all sorts of pressures, pleas, and pretences.”
“Has fellowship served to make the individual free, strong, and mature, or has it made him weak and dependent? Has it taken him by the hand for a while in order that he may learn again to walk by himself, or has it made him uneasy and unsure?”
“An isolated person is weak. By slowly isolating your victims, you make them more vulnerable to your influence. Take them away from their normal milieu, friends, family, home. Give them the sense of being marginalized, in limbo? ”
“To her surprise, she was instantly moved with pity. He looked so small and crushed, and so frail; she had pictured a strapping youth bravely biting his lips and smiling through his pain, but not this utterly vanquished child whose face showed only fear and bewilderment.”