"Love is giving me a pretty hard time at the moment, as you know. Now this could be seen as a descent into hell or it could be seen as a revelation. It was only when I wrote A Time to Rend and a Time to Sew that I understood my own capacity for love. And I learned this while I was actually typing the words and sentences."
"But what about the spiritual side? What about the spirituality that appears to be present on every page of your books?"
"I'm beginning to like the idea of you coming with me to the Armenian restaurant, because you'll learn--or, rather, become conscious of--three important things. First, that as soon as people decide to confront a problem, they realize that they are far more capable than they thought they were. Second, that all energy and all knowledge come from the same unknown source, which we usually call God. What I've tried to do in my life, ever since I first started out on what I believe to be my path, is to honor that energy, to connect up with it every day, to allow myself to be guided by the signs, to learn by doing and not by thinking about doing.
"Third, that no one is alone in their troubles; there is always someone else thinking, rejoicing, or suffering in the same way, and that gives us the strength to confront the challenge before us."
"Does that include suffering for love?"
"It includes everything. If there is suffering, then it's best to accept it, because it won't go away just because you pretend it's not there. If there is joy, then it's best to accept that too, even though you're afraid it might end one day. Some people can only relate to life through sacrifice and renunciation. Some people can only feel part of humanity when they think they are 'happy.' But why all these questions?"
"Because I'm in love and I'm afraid of suffering."
"Don't be afraid; the only way to avoid that suffering would be to refuse to love."
"I can feel Esther's presence. Apart from the young man's epileptic fit, you haven't told me anything else about what happened at the pizzeria. That's a bad sign for me, although it might be a good sign for you."
"It might be a bad sign for me too."
"Do you know what I would like to know? I'd like to know if you love me as much as I love you. But I don't have the courage to ask. Why do I have such frustrating relationships with men? I always feel like I have to be in a relationship and that means I have to be this fantastic, intelligent, sensitive, exceptional person. The effort of seduction forces me to give of my best and that helps me. Besides, it's really hard living on your own, and I don't know if that's the best option either."
"So you want to know if I'm still capable of loving a woman, even though she left me without a word of explanation."
"I read your book. I know you are."
"You want to know whether, despite loving Esther, I'm still capable of loving you?"
"I wouldn't dare ask that question because the answer could ruin my life."
"You want to know if the heart of a man or a woman can contain enough love for more than one person?"
"Since that's a less direct question than the previous one, yes, I'd like an answer."
"I think it's perfectly possible as long as one of those people doesn't turn into..."
"...a Zahir. Well, I'm going to fight for you anyway, because I think you're worth it. Any man capable of loving a woman as much as you loved--or love--Esther deserves all my respect and all my efforts. And to show that I want to keep you by my side, to show how important you are in my life, I'm going to do as you ask, however absurd it might be: I'm going to find out why railway tracks are always 4 feet 81/2 inches apart."
The owner of the Armenian restaurant had done exactly what he had told me he was planning to do: the whole restaurant, and not just the room at the back, was now full of people who had come for the meeting. Marie eyed them with some curiosity and occasionally commented on what a varied crowd they were.
"Why bring children to something like this? It's absurd."
"Perhaps they haven't got anyone they can leave them with."
At nine o'clock on the dot, the six performers--the two musicians in oriental dress and the four young people in their white shirts and full skirts--walked onto the stage. Service at the tables came to an immediate halt, and the people in the audience fell silent.
"In the Mongolian creation myth, doe and wild dog come together," said Mikhail in that voice which was not his own. "Two beings with very different natures: in the wild, the dog would normally kill the deer for food. In the Mongolian myth, they both understand that they each need the qualities of the other if they are to survive in a hostile world, and that they should, therefore, join forces.
"To do this, they must first learn to love. And in order to love, they must cease to be who they are, otherwise they will never be able to live together. With the passing of time, the wild dog comes to accept that his instinct, always focused on the struggle to survive, now serves a greater purpose: finding someone with whom he can rebuild the world."
He paused.
"When we dance, we spin around that same Energy, which rises up to our Lady and returns to us imbued with all her strength, just as the water in rivers evaporates, is transformed into clouds, and returns in the form of rain. My story today is about the circle of love.
"One morning, a farmer knocked loudly on the door of a monastery. When Brother Porter opened the door, the farmer held out to him a magnificent bunch of grapes.
"'Dear Brother Porter, these are the finest grapes from my vineyard. Please accept them as a gift from me.'
"'Why, thank you! I'll take them straight to the Abbot, who will be thrilled with such a gift.'