And that was fine. I didn't matter much in the scheme of things and Martin didn't either. We were easily forgotten. It was a social and moral lesson, if nothing else. But for all foreseeable time to come - for as long as history was written, until the icecaps melted and the streets of Amsterdam were awash with water - the painting would be remembered and mourned. Who knew, or cared, the names of the Turks who blew the roof off the Parthenon? the mullahs who had ordered the destruction of the Buddhas at Bamiyan? Yet living or dead: their acts stood. It was the worst kind of immortality. Intentionally or no: I had extinguished a light at the heart of the world.
( Donna Tartt )
[ The Goldfinch ]
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