Don’t expect sympathy from me, David, and don’t expect sympathy from anyone else either. No sympathy, no… — J. M. Coetzee
Don’t expect sympathy from me, David, and don’t expect sympathy from anyone else either. No sympathy, no mercy, not in this day and age. Everyone’s hand will be against you, and why not? Really, how could you
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Because he takes pleasure in her, because his pleasure is unfailing, an affection has grown up in him for her. To some degree, he believes, this affection is reciprocated. Affection may not be love, but it is at least its cousin.
Talking to Petrus is like punching a bag of sand.
'Are you giving him up?'
'Yes, I am giving him up.'
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p. 16
