dimanche 9 septembre 2012

Randall Jarrell, PICTURES FROM AN INSTITUTION, New York, Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, 1968 [1954], 277 pages

She was a mousy woman till she smiled: her teeth bared themselves, counted, and their lips went over them. Her smile was, I think, all that people have called it: it was like a skull, like a stone-marten scarf, like catatonia, like the smile of the damned at Bamberg; the slogan of the company that manufactured it was "As False as Cressida"; torn animals were removed at sunset from that smile. And yet it was only a nervous grimace, her one attempt to establish an ephemeral rapport with her world: "One would have said her body thought," and her body had kinder thoughts than she. That skull's grin was no memento mori, but Gertrude's admission that she too had to live.

p. 65

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