Don-Delillo

How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?
—  Don DeLillo
How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for awhile? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it that no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?
—  Don DeLillo, White Noise
Resulta muy extraño. Padecemos estos miedos terribles, profundos y constantes en torno a nosotros mismos y a la gente que amamos. Sin embargo, vamos de un lado a otro, charlamos con la gente, comemos y bebemos. Nos las arreglamos para funcionar. Nuestros sentimientos son profundos y reales. ¿Acaso no deberían paralizarnos? ¿Cómo es posible que sobrevivamos a ellos, al menos durante un tiempo? Conducimos un automóvil, impartimos una clase. ¿Cómo es que nadie advierte cuán atemorizados nos hemos sentido la noche anterior o esa misma mañana? ¿Se trata de algo que todos ocultamos entre nosotros por acuerdo mutuo? ¿O quizá ocurre que compartimos el mismo secreto sin saberlo? ¿Que llevamos el mismo disfraz?
—  White Noise / Don DeLillo
How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?
—  Don DeLillo