I can see, and that is why I can be happy, in what you call the dark, but which to me is golden. I can see a God-made world, not a manmade world.
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She looks at you through the filtered green of her eyes. She says: You herald the reign of death. Death can’t be loved if it’s imposed from outside. You think you weep because you can’t love. You weep because you can’t impose death.
She’s already almost asleep. She says almost inaudibly: You’re going to die of death. Your death has already begun.You weep. She says: Don’t cry, it’s pointless, give up the habit of weeping for yourself, it’s pointless.
The Malady of Death
Marguerite Duras
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