The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Each of them was alone. Tereza with her dog, Tomas with his.

I see them one next to the other: both stepping down from the road along which mankind, “the master and proprietor of nature,” marches onward.

True human goodness, in all its purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when its recipient has no power.

Only after a year did the accumulated malice (which until then had been vented, for the sake of training, on animals) find its true goal: people.

the extermination of all pigeons within city limits.

All faith in Communism and love for Russia was dead. So they sought people who wished to get back at life for something, people with revenge on the brain.

And so on and so forth. Before we are forgotten, we will be turned into kitsch. Kitsch is the stopover between being and oblivion.

And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers. Franz, for example.

Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love.