His life had been tied to the past. He'd seen himself a point on a moving wavefront, propagating through sterile history-a known past, a projectable future. But she was the breaking of the wave. Suddenly there was a beach, the unpredictable… new life. Past and future stopped at the beach: that was how he'd set it out. But he wanted to believe it too, the same way he loved her, past all words-believe that no matter how bad the time, nothing was fixed, everything could be changed and she could always deny the dark sea at his back, love it away. And {selfishly} that from a somber youth, squarely founded on Death-along for Death's ride-he might, with her, find his way to life and to joy.
( Thomas Pynchon )
[ Gravity's Rainbow ]
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