Excerpt from my Favorite Book: The Passion by Jeanette Winterson
[This passage always destroys me when i come back to it. Haay. The (recurring) story of my life. ]
When passion comes late in life for the first time, it
is harder to give up. And those who meet this beast late in life are offered
only devilish choices. Will they say goodbye to what they know and ser sail on
an unknown sea with no certainty of land again? Will they dismiss those
everyday things that have made life tolerable and put aside the feelings of old
friends, a lover even? In short, will they behave as if they are twenty years
younger with
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D(["mb"," Canaan just over the ridge?
\n
Not usually.
\n
And if they do, you will have to strap them to the mast as the boats pull away because the siren calls are terrible to hear and they may go mad \n at the thought of what they have lost.
\n
That is one choice.
\n
Another is to learn to juggle; to do as we did for nine nights. This soon tires the hands if not the heart. \n
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Two choices.
\n
The third is to refuse the passion as one might sensibly refuse a leopard in the house, however tame it might seem at first. You might reason that you can easily feed a leopard and that your garden is big enough, but you will know in your dreams at least that no leopard is ever satisfied with what it\'s given. After nine night must come ten and every desperate meeting only leaves you desperate for another. There is never enough to eat, never enough garden for your love. \n
\n
So you refuse and then you discover that your house is haunted by the ghost of a leopard.
\n
When passion comes late in life it is hard to bear.
\n
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);
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Canaan just over the ridge?
Not usually.
And if they do, you will have to strap them to the mast as the boats pull away
because the siren calls are terrible to hear and they may go mad at the
thought of what they have lost.
That is one choice.
Another is to learn to juggle; to do as we did for nine nights. This soon tires
the hands if not the heart.
Two choices.
The third is to refuse the passion as one might sensibly refuse a leopard in
the house, however tame it might seem at first. You might reason that you can
easily feed a leopard and that your garden is big enough, but you will know in
your dreams at least that no leopard is ever satisfied with what it’s given.
After nine night must come ten and every desperate meeting only leaves you
desperate for another. There is never enough to eat, never enough garden for
your love.
So you refuse and then you discover that your house is haunted by the ghost of
a leopard.
When passion comes late in life it is hard to bear.
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D(["mb","
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One more night. How tempting. How innocent. I could stay tonight, surely? What difference could it make, one more night? No. If I smell her skin, find the mute curves of her nakedness, she will reach in her hand and withdraw my heart like a bird\'s egg. I have not had time to cover my heart in barnacles to elude her. If I give in to this passion, my real life, the most solid, the best known, will disappear and I will feed on shadows again like those sad spirits whom Orpheus fled.\n
\n
\n
I wished her goodnight, touching her hand only and thankful for the dark that hid her eyes. I did not sleep that night, but wandered the unlit alleys, taking my comfort from the cool of the walls and the regular smack of the water. In the morning I shut up my house and never went there again. \n
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);
//–>
One more night. How tempting. How innocent. I could stay tonight, surely? What
difference could it make, one more night? No. If I smell her skin, find the
mute curves of her nakedness, she will reach in her hand and withdraw my heart
like a bird’s egg. I have not had time to cover my heart in barnacles to elude
her. If I give in to this passion, my real life, the most solid, the best
known, will disappear and I will feed on shadows again like those sad spirits
whom Orpheus fled.
I wished her goodnight, touching her hand only and thankful for the dark
that hid her eyes. I did not sleep that night, but wandered the unlit alleys,
taking my comfort from the cool of the walls and the regular smack of the
water. In the morning I shut up my house and never went there again.
