John/Brother Benignus Quotes in Secrets
“I thought maybe it was Brother Benignus,” he said. She looked at him not answering.
“Was your friend killed in the war?”
At first she said no, but then she changed her mind.
“Perhaps he was,” she said, then smiled. “You are far too inquisitive. Put it to use and go and see what is for tea.”
My love, it is thinking of you that keeps me sane. When I get a moment I open my memories of you as if I were reading. Your long dark hair—I always imagine you wearing the blouse with the tiny roses, the white one that opened down the back—your eyes that said so much without words, the way you lowered your head when I said anything that embarrassed you, the clean nape of your neck.
The only emotion I have experienced lately is one of anger. Sheer white trembling anger. I have no pity or sorrow for the dead and injured. I thank God it is not me but I am enraged that it had to be them. If I live through this experience I will be a different person.
I have been thinking a lot as I lie here about the war and about myself and about you. I do not know how to say this but I feel deeply that I must do something, must sacrifice something to make up for the horror of the past year. In some strange way Christ has spoken to me through the carnage.
John/Brother Benignus Quotes in Secrets
“I thought maybe it was Brother Benignus,” he said. She looked at him not answering.
“Was your friend killed in the war?”
At first she said no, but then she changed her mind.
“Perhaps he was,” she said, then smiled. “You are far too inquisitive. Put it to use and go and see what is for tea.”
My love, it is thinking of you that keeps me sane. When I get a moment I open my memories of you as if I were reading. Your long dark hair—I always imagine you wearing the blouse with the tiny roses, the white one that opened down the back—your eyes that said so much without words, the way you lowered your head when I said anything that embarrassed you, the clean nape of your neck.
The only emotion I have experienced lately is one of anger. Sheer white trembling anger. I have no pity or sorrow for the dead and injured. I thank God it is not me but I am enraged that it had to be them. If I live through this experience I will be a different person.
I have been thinking a lot as I lie here about the war and about myself and about you. I do not know how to say this but I feel deeply that I must do something, must sacrifice something to make up for the horror of the past year. In some strange way Christ has spoken to me through the carnage.