bounjour tristesse (1958) / tea and sympathy (1956) / the innocents (1961) / the grass is greener (1960) / beloved infidel (1959)

I thought, Will anyone be better off if I go straight back to the hotel and say my prayers and confess to the priest and promise never to fall into temptation again? Will anyone be better for making me miserable?

And the answer came back–no. No one will. There’s no one to fret, no on to condemn, no one to bless me for being a good girl, no one to punish me for being wicked. Heaven was empty. I didn’t know whether God had died, or whether there never had been a God at all. Either way I felt free and lonely and I didn’t know whether I was happy or unhappy, but something very strange had happened. And all that huge change came about as I had the marzipan in my mouth, before I’d even swallowed it. A taste–a memory–a landslide…

I didn't know [dust] was beautiful, Mary said to Atal.

Dust is beautiful . . . I never knew.