I would be less frightened of death {not just my own death

I would be less frightened of death {not just my own death but Welty's death, Andy's death, Death in general} if I thought a familiar person came to meet us at the door

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In Donna Tartt's novel "The Goldfinch," the theme of death emerges as a significant concern for the characters. The narrator expresses a longing for comfort when facing mortality, highlighting a fear not just of their own demise, but of losing loved ones as well. This fear emphasizes the universal anxiety surrounding death and the unknown.

The narrator's contemplation suggests that the presence of a familiar figure awaiting them at death's threshold would provide solace in their journey. This idea encapsulates a human desire for connection and reassurance in the face of life's most daunting inevitability. The thought of companionship in death softens the fear, transforming a lonely experience into one of potential comfort.

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The Goldfinch

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Donna Tartt

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February 07, 2025

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It wasn't the kind of thing you could ask but still I wanted to know. Did she have nightmares too? Crowd fears? Sweats and panics? Did she ever have the sense of observing herself from afar, as I often did, as if the explosion had knocked my body and my soul into two separate entities that remained about six feet apart from one another? Her gust of laughter had a self-propelling recklessness I knew all too well from wild nights with Boris, an edge of giddiness and hysteria that I associated {in myself, anyway} with having narrowly missed death.

It wasn't the kind of thing you could ask but still I wanted to know. Did she have nightmares too? Crowd fears? Sweats and panics? Did she ever have the sense of observing herself from afar, as I often did, as if the explosion had knocked my body and my soul into two separate entities that remained about six feet apart from one another? Her gust of laughter had a self-propelling recklessness I knew all too well from wild nights with Boris, an edge of giddiness and hysteria that I associated {in myself, anyway} with having narrowly missed death.

...my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky.

. . . it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn't touch.

More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I'd stopped myself from blurting the thing I'd never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying out loud to him in the street - which was, of course, I love you.

And-maybe it's ridiculous to go on in this vein, although it doesn't matter since no one's ever going to see this-but does it make any sense at all to know that it ends badly for all of us, even the happiest of us, and that we all lose everything that matters in the end-and yet to know as well, despite all this, as cruelly as the game is stacked, that it's possible to play it with a kind of joy?

I would be less frightened of death {not just my own death but Welty's death, Andy's death, Death in general} if I thought a familiar person came to meet us at the door

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.

All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!

Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!

"Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels."

"Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels."

For me the curse is a crutch, but the con is everything.

For me the curse is a crutch, but the con is everything.

I don't have anything against God. Far from it. But I don't understand Him. And I don't trust a lot of the people that go around claiming that they're working in His best interests.

I don't have anything against God. Far from it. But I don't understand Him. And I don't trust a lot of the people that go around claiming that they're working in His best interests.

"What peace can the eye find from the swift sky? \nO cupbearer, give me a cup to rest a moment. \nI told Wit these matters; he smiled and said: \nHard is the daily life, full of amazing troubles and a world disarrayed. \nOn the path of love-play, there is no safety and comfort; \nCursed be the heart that seeks healing for your pain. \nThe people of delight and charm have no way in the street of libertines; \nOne must be a traveler—all-consuming, not naive and carefree. \nHuman beings do not come into the earthly world completed; \nA new world must be built anew, and a new man again. \nWhat is Hafez’s weeping to measure before the sufficiency of love, \nThat in this sea it displays the moisture of seven seas?"

$"What peace can the eye find from the swift sky? \nO cupbearer, give me a cup to rest a moment. \nI told Wit these matters; he smiled and said: \nHard is the daily life, full of amazing troubles and a world disarrayed. \nOn the path of love-play, there is no safety and comfort; \nCursed be the heart that seeks healing for your pain. \nThe people of delight and charm have no way in the street of libertines; \nOne must be a traveler—all-consuming, not naive and carefree. \nHuman beings do not come into the earthly world completed; \nA new world must be built anew, and a new man again. \nWhat is Hafez’s weeping to measure before the sufficiency of love, \nThat in this sea it displays the moisture of seven seas?"$