You will remember this when all else fades, this moment, here, together, by this well. There will be certain days, and certain nights, youโll feel my presence near you, hear my voice. Youโll think you have imagined it and yet, inside you, you will catch an answering cry. On April evenings, when the rain has ceased, your heart will shake, youโll weep for nothing, pine for whatโs not there. For you, this life will never be enough, there will forever be an emptiness, where once the god was all in all in you.
John BanvilleArt is amoral, whether we accept this or not; it does not take sides. The finest fictions are cold at heart.
John Banville