A mark of a truly great book is when it makes you realize something about yourself and/or the world you live in. The Hours by Michael Cunningham gave me something extraordinary. It gave me a sense of normalcy.
"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds & expectations, to burst open & give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so."
-Laura
The book is simply beautiful. The re-imagining of Virginia's life and its relation to Laura and Clarissa was exquisite
"To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face. And to know it for what it is. At last to know it is. To love it for what it is. And then to put it away. Leonard always the years between us, always the years. Always the love. Always the hours."
-Virginia
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