“I’m worried that I am losing him again.”
“Maybe I never gave it enough thought — what Walter went through. I only every saw it from my own perspective. His being crazy was something he did to us … to my mother and me. It wasn’t something that happened to him.”
There were phrases of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony that still made Coe cry. He always thought it had to do with the circumstances of the composition itself. He imagined Beethoven, deaf and soul sick, his heart broken, scribbling furiously while Death stood in the doorway, clipping his nails. Still, Coe thought, it might’ve been living in the country that was making him cry. It was killing him with its silence, and loneliness. Making everything ordinary too beautiful to bear.
“She was the only person living who always thought you and I were such nice people.”