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И вот он на самом дне. С какой-то стороны даже хорошо, подумал он: падать дальше некуда.

That was you you gave me for a little while. It was really you.

I’ve spent years now, it seems to me, thinking that one fine day I’d wake up and all my torment would be over, and all my indecision would end — and that no man, no boy, no male — would ever have power over me again.

So what can we really do for each other except — just love each other and be each other’s witness?

I never heard of two cats who wanted to make it failing because they were the wrong size. Love always finds a way, dad.

I think sin should be fun.”

As he delivered his one line — “Nom de Dieu, que j’ai soif!” — the camera shifted to show him framed in the sights of an enemy gun; blood suddenly bubbled from Eric’s lips and he went sliding off the rooftop, out of sight. With Eric’s death, the movie also died for them, and, luckily, very shortly, it was over. They walked out of the cool darkness into the oven of July.

“After all this time we’ve been together,” he said, at last, “you still think that?” “Our being together doesn’t change the world, Vivaldo.” “It does,” he said, “for me.” “That,” she said, “is because you’re white.”

He had no function, they did: they pulled rank on him, they closed ranks against him.

He wanted to enter into, or to forget, the chaos at his center.

On what basis where they to act? for their blind seeking was not a foundation which could be expected to bear any weight.

“What’s so funny?” Vivaldo asked, quietly. “If you don’t see it, I can’t tell you,” Rufus said. He had stopped laughing, was very sober and still. “Everybody’s on the A train — you take it uptown, I take it downtown — it’s crazy.”

But her reaction had been so swift and terrible! Now, his advantage was gone. His patiently amassed and hoarded capital — of understanding and gallantry — had vanished in the twinkling of an eye.

No? I thought all you white boys had a big thing about how us spooks was making out.

“Sometimes that girl gets me so I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“Poor little rich boy,” he said, “tell me what you want to do.”

It had vet to reach the threshold of his imagination; and it had no name, no name for him anyway, though for other people, so he had heard, it had dreadful names. It had only a shape and the shape was LeRoy and LeRoy contained the mystery which had him by the throat.

He stood there, wide-legged, humping the air, filling his barrel chest, shivering in the rags of his twenty-odd years, and screaming through the horn Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? And, again, Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? This, anyway, was the question Rufus heard, the same phrase, unbearably, endlessly, and variously repeated, with all of the force the boy had.

— Так, значит, мы с тобой болтаемся в одной лодке, — сказал он.