A quote on love and probabilities

Because I woke up with the words “We send starships, we fall in love”, this morning, for no apparent reason other than, probably, my brain wanting to wake up to a beautiful sentence. Do you ever have lines stuck in your heads, like songs, and spend hours trying to remember where they are from?

At least that’s a step up from the usual unending mambo-jambo of repetitive songs that struggle to find the top rank on the most-annoying-song-stuck-in-head-list. The current top place is disputed between that which doesn’t even deserve to be called a song, and Old Macdonald had a farm. When I say I live in constant hell…

For a change, then, an amazing quote (from an amazing book, now that I remember where I’ve read it)

Walk with me, hand in hand through the neon and styrofoam. Walk the razor blades and the broken hearts. Walk the fortune and the fortune hunted. Walk the chop suey bars and the tract of stars.
I know I am a fool, hoping dirt and glory are both a kind of luminous paint; the humiliations and exaltations that light us up. I see like a bug, everything too large, the pressure of infinity hammering at my head. But how else to live, vertical that I am, pressed down and pressing up simultaneously? I cannot assume you will understand me. It is just as likely that as I invent what I want to say, you will invent what you want to hear. Some story we must have. Stray words on crumpled paper. A weak signal into the outer space of each other.
The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.

From Gut Symmetries, by Jeanette Winterson



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