˝You‘re Holly‘s father .˝ He ...

"You‘re Holly‘s father ."
He blinked, he frowned. "Her name‘s not Holly. She was a Lulamae Barnes. Was," he said, shifting the toothpick in his mouth, "till she married me. I‘m her husband. Doc Golightly. I‘m a horse doctor, animal man. Do some farming, too. Near Tulip, Texas. Son, why are you laughin‘?"
It wasn‘t real laughter: it was nerves. I took a swallow of water and choked; he pounded me on the back. "This here‘s no humorous matter, son. I‘m a tired man. I‘ve been five years lookin‘ for my woman. Soon as I got that letter from Fred, saying where she was, I bought myself a ticket on the Greyhound. Lulamae belongs home with her husband and her churren." (78/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P78

"Plain broke our hearts when she ran off like she done," the horse doctor repeated. "She had no cause. All the housework was done by her daughters. Lulamae could just take it easy: fuss in front of mirrors and wash her hair. Our own cows, our own garden, chickens, pigs: son, that woman got positively fat. While her brother growed into a giant. Which is a sight different from how they come to us. ‘Twas Nellie, my oldest girl, ‘twas Nellie brought ‘em into the house. She come to me one morning, and said: ‘Papa, I got two wild yunguns locked in the kitchen. I caught ‘em outside stealing milk and turkey eggs.‘ That was Lulamae and Fred. Well, you never saw a more pitiful something. Ribs sticking out everywhere, legs so puny they can‘t hardly stand, teeth wobbling so bad they can‘t chew mush. Story was: their mother died of the TB, and their papa done the same — and all the churren, a whole raft of ‘em, they been sent off to live with different mean people. Now Lulamae and her brother, them two been living with some mean, no-count people a hundred miles east of Tulip. She had good cause to run off from that house. She didn‘t have none to leave mine. Twas her home."
(80/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P80

"She plumped out to be a real pretty woman. Lively, too. Talky as a jaybird. With something smart to say on every subject: better than the radio. First thing you know, I‘m out picking flowers. I tamed her a crow and taught it to say her name. I showed her how to play the guitar. Just to look at her made the tears spring to my eyes. The night I proposed, I cried like a baby. She said: ‘What you want to cry for, Doc? ‘Course we‘ll be married. I‘ve never been married before.‘ Well, I had to laugh, hug and squeeze her: never been married before! "
(81/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P81

"Sure, Lulamae. If you‘re still around tomorrow."
She took off her dark glasses and squinted at me. It was as though her eyes were shattered prisms, the dots of blue and gray and green like broken bits of sparkle. "He told you that," she said in a small, shivering voice.
(83/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P83

"Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell," Holly advised him. "That was Doc‘s mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can‘t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they‘re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That‘s how you‘ll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You‘ll end up looking at the sky."
(86/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P86

All this, combined with the city heat of the summer, had reduced me to a state of nervous inertia. So I more than half meant it when I wished I were under the wheels of the train. The headline made the desire quite positive. If Holly could marry that "absurd foetus," then the army of wrongness rampant in the world might as well march over me. Or, and the question is apparent, was my outrage a little the result of being in love with Holly myself? A little. For I was in love with her. Just as I‘d once been in love with my mother‘s elderly colored cook and a postman who let me follow him on his rounds and a whole family named McKendrick. That category of love generates jealousy, too.
(89/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P89

It was a telegram from Tulip, Texas: Received notice young Fred killed in action overseas stop your husband and children join in the sorrow of our mutual loss stop letter follows love Doc.
Holly never mentioned her brother again: except once. Moreover, she stopped calling me Fred. June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone. Her hair darkened, she put on weight. She became rather careless about her clothes: used to rush round to the delicatessen wearing a rain-slicker and nothing underneath. José;
moved into the apartment, his name replacing Mag Wildwood‘s on the mailbox. Still, Holly was a good deal alone, for José;
stayed in Washington three days a week. During his absences she entertained no one and seldom left the apartment — except on Thursdays, when she made her weekly trip to Ossining.
(93/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P93

자신이 신이라는 그녀의 결론은 이런 상황이 만들어낸 ...

자신이 신이라는 그녀의 결론은 이런 상황이 만들어낸 이상점(outlier, 데이터의 전반적인 흐름에서 벗어나는 관측점—옮긴이)이었다. - <지구가 평평하다고 믿는 사람과 즐겁고 생산적인 대화를 나누는 법>, 리 매킨타이어 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/179620483 - P67

칼 포퍼(Karl Popper)는 1959년에 발간한 저서 《과학적 발견의 논리(The Logic of Scientific Discovery)》에서 ‘반증(falsification)’ 이론을 제시하며, 과학자는 언제나 자신의 이론을 확증하는 일보다 반증에 주력해야 한다고 주장했다.35 - <지구가 평평하다고 믿는 사람과 즐겁고 생산적인 대화를 나누는 법>, 리 매킨타이어 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/179620483 - P71

My hand, smoothing oil on her...

My hand, smoothing oil on her skin, seemed to have a temper of its own: it yearned to raise itself and come down on her buttocks. "Give me an example," I said quietly. "Of something that means something. In your opinion."
(73/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P73

"Wuthering Heights ," she said, without hesitation.
The urge in my hand was growing beyond control. "But that‘s unreasonable. You‘re talking about a work of genius."
"It was, wasn‘t it? My wild sweet Cathy . God, I cried buckets. I saw it ten times."
I said, "Oh" with recognizable relief, "oh" with a shameful, rising inflection, "the movie ."
Her muscles hardened, the touch of her was like stone warmed by the sun. "Everybody has to
feel superior to somebody," she said. "But it‘s customary to present a little proof before you take the privilege."
(73/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P73

She sat up on the army cot, her face, her naked breasts coldly blue in the sun-lamp light. - P74

A person in his early fifties with a hard, weathered face, gray forlorn eyes. He wore an old sweat-stained gray hat, and his cheap summer suit, a pale blue, hung too loosely on his lanky frame; his shoes were brown and brandnew. He seemed to have no intention of ringing Holly‘s bell. Slowly, as though he were reading Braille, he kept rubbing a finger across the embossed lettering of her name. - P76

Aprils have never meant much ...

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring; which is how I felt sitting with Holly on the railings of the boathouse porch. I thought of the future, and spoke of the past. Because Holly wanted to know about my childhood. She talked of her own, too; but it was elusive, nameless, placeless, an impressionistic recital, though the impression received was contrary to what one expected, for she gave an almost voluptuous account of swimming and summer, Christmas trees, pretty cousins and parties: in short, happy in a way that she was not, and never, certainly, the background of a child who had run away.
(64/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P64

Holly picked up a mask and slipped it over her face; she chose another and put it on mine; then she took my hand and we walked away. It was as simple as that. Outside, we ran a few blocks, I think to make it more dramatic; but also because, as I‘d discovered, successful theft exhilarates. I wondered if she‘d often stolen. "I used to," she said. "I mean I had to. If I wanted anything. But I still do it every now and then, sort of to keep my hand in." We wore the masks all the way home.
(65/130p. Penguin Classic, 2022) - P65

‘Nobody loves naughtiness.‘ O...

‘Nobody loves naughtiness.‘
Obviously she‘d said what he wanted to hear; it appeared to both excite and relax him. Still he continued, as though it were a ritual: ‘Do you love me?‘ - P48

‘You don‘t love me,‘ he complained, as thought hey were alone. - P48