Character: Smilla Jaspersen. Page 2

People build their lives with time. If it is a little change, always something thought-provoking.

There are different ways of trying to overcome depression. You can listen to the organ works of Bach in the Church of Christ the Savior. You can use razor blades to put on a pocket mirror stripe good mood in the form of a powder and then inhale it through a straw for a cocktail. You can call for help. For example, by telephone, to accurately know exactly who will hear you. This is the European way. Hope that can be something taking, to find a way out of a difficult situation. I choose Greenland journey. It is how to dive in a black mood. Putting your defeat under a microscope and focus on it. When the situation is really bad - like now - I only see a black tunnel. To him I go. I take his expensive clothes, his underwear, his safety helmet, leave their Danish passport and enter the darkness. I know the train goes. Lined with lead locomotive carrying strontium-90. I'm going to meet him. I do it because I am 37 years old. I know that deep tunnel under the wheels, between the sleepers there is a tiny clearance.

The world is a chain of compulsions.

The only chance for anyone is to give yourself time to get used to.

When I was five years old, the world was incomprehensible to me. When I was thirty, he became my little, dirty and sickeningly predictable. Now it's a mess, though different, not like in childhood, but equally challenging. Over the years I have voluntarily begun to impose on themselves some limitations. I don't want to start over. To deal with its own individuality.

Death is terrible not because it changes the future. And the fact that it leaves us alone with our memories.

Our life is complicated by the necessity of choice. The one for whom the choice is made, is not experiencing difficulties.

Freedom of choice is an illusion, life leads us through a series of bitter, absurd, repetitive confrontations with the problems that we were not allowed.

When a person is in the end tormented, he suddenly finds himself in the depths of the abyss of cheerful cynicism.

Our physical existence, puts a limit to how much pain can endure a soul.

The desire to understand leads to blindness, the desire to understand carries with it the cruelty that overshadows something to aspire to understanding. Only the perception has the heart.

I could never be condescending to other people's amorous suffering. I can see how they find the man under the rainbow. I can see how they have children, as they buy a pram as they go for walks along the promenade in the spring sunshine as they condescendingly laugh at me. Then after months, she finds him in the arms of one of the other happy mothers and turns into a spiritual dwarf. And then I removed the light white, flicking the dust off me. And I have to listen to how hard it is being a divorced single mother, as all her youth sucked out of her child, who is now a machine that uses her and giving nothing in return.

Plans that manage to keep a secret, it is best implemented.

Children forget. They love anyone or forget anyone.