Love Story :P

Okay, I confess i am jobless and a little too lost. Hence { Mental note: I should use this word less often, once my report was rejected because of the words "hence" and "therefore" :( . Anyways :P }, I read "Love story" by Erich Segal, yet again, today :D. I lost my copy of the book a couple of months back :x, so I'm trying to scribble down stuff frfom this favourite book of mine, for memory purposes :P.



I'll try to put down as many as possible /)



#We spoke in whispers.
'Hey, Jen...'
'Yeah?'
'Jen...what would you say if i told you...'
I hesitated.She waited.
'I think...I'm in love with you.'
There was a pause. Then she answered very softly.
'I would say...you were full of shit.'
She hung up.
I wasn't unhappy.Or surprised.#

# ‘You want to marry me?’
‘Yes.’
She tilted her head, did not smile, but merely inquired:
‘Why?’
I looked her straight in the eye.
‘Because,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s a very good reason.’
She took my arm (not my sleeve this time), and we walked along the river. There was nothing more to say, really.#

#‘Ollie, think,’ she said, her tone kind of pleading now. ‘Sixty goddamn years old. Nothing says he’ll still be around when you’re finally ready for the reconciliation’. #

#‘Hey, listen, you bitch,’ I said.

'What, you bastard?’ she replied.
‘I owe you a helluva lot,’ I said sincerely.
‘Not true, you bastard, not true,’ she answered.
‘Not true?’ I inquired, somewhat surprised.
‘You owe me everything,’ she said.#

#CHANGE OF ADDRESS
From July I,1967
Mr and Mrs Oliver Barrett IV
263 East 63rd Street
New York, N.Y. I002I #

#I began to think about God.
I mean, the notion of a Supreme Being existing somewhere began to creep into my private thoughts. Not because I wanted to strike Him on the face, to punch Him out for what He was about to do to me – to Jenny, that is. No, the kind of religious thoughts I had were just the opposite. Like when I woke up in the morning and Jenny was there. Still there. I’m sorry, embarrassed even, but I hoped there was a God I could ay thank you to. Thank you for letting me wake up and see Jennifer.#

#We all have our idiosyncratic ways of coping with grief. Phil’s was to clean the place. To wash, to scrub, to polish. I don’t really understand his thought processes, but Christ, let him work.
Does he cherish the dream that Jenny will come home?
He does, doesn’t he? The poor bastard. That’s why he is cleaning up. He just won’t accept things for what they are. Of course, he won’t admit this to me,but I know it’s on his mind.
Because it’s on mine too.#

#‘Oliver,’ said my father urgently, ‘ I want to help.’
‘Jenny’s dead,’ I told him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a stunned whisper.

Not knowing why, I repeated what I had long ago learned from the beautiful girl now dead.
‘Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry.’#

~Love it :) ~