Sometimes, I feel like I’m desperately searching for some meaning and answer to the questions in my mind through the books I read. Will that search ever end? Will I successfully find my answers when, most of the time, I don’t even know what I’m looking for?
There are times when I just pick up a book and finish reading it quickly. Sometimes even though I’ve finished a particular book, I just keep going back to it. Seeking for and reading out a particular paragraph, dialogue that no matter how hard I try just doesn’t let go.
There are also instances when a single idea, a tiny sentence written among the ocean of words in a book will touch me in such a manner as I have never imagined. The whole world turns upside down and for a moment I feel as though I’ve finally found what I was looking for. But, sometimes the questions just keep increasing…like this is an insatiable hunger.
The only question I’m left with in the end, “Will this ever end? Is it supposed to.?”
So, this is just a quote from The Scarlet Letter (yes, I’ve just finished reading it) that has me writing/thinking so much :
The same dark question often rose into her mind with reference to the whole race of womanhood. Was existence worth accepting even to the happiest among them?
Do you have these moments too? Or do you think this is just weird :p