Quotes About Elio
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As I sat there, working on transcriptions at my round table in the morning, what I would have settled for was not his friendship, not anything. Just to look up and find him there, suntan lotion, straw hat, red bathing suit, lemonade. To look up and find you there, Oliver. For the day will come soon enough when I'll look up and you'll no longer be there. ~ Andre Aciman
Oliver was Oliver,' I said, as if that summed things up.
'Parce que c'était lui, parce que c'était moi,' my father added, quoting Montaigne's all-encompassing explanation for his friendship with Etienne de la Boétie.
I was thinking, instead, of Emily Brontë's words: because 'he's more myself than I am. ~ Andre Aciman
Would I be able to live without his hand on my tummy or around my hips? Without kissing and licking a wound on his hip that would take weeks to heal, but away from me now? Whom else would I ever be able to call by my name?
There would be others, of course, and others after others, but calling them by my name in a moment of passion would feel like a derived thrill, an affectation. ~ Andre Aciman
One's manner of living, is a matter of life ~ Elio Melo
What if my body - just my body, my heart - cried out for his? What to do then?
What if at night I wouldn't be able to live with myself unless I had him by me, inside me? What then? ~ Andre Aciman
Oliver: Do you have any idea how glad I am that we slept together?
Elio:I don't know.
Oliver: It would be just like you not to know. I just don't want to regret any of it - including what you wouldn't let me talk this morning. I just dread that the thought of having messed you up. I don't want either of us to have to pay one way or another. ~ Andre Aciman
Perhaps what I liked far more was the evening. Everything about it thrilled me. Every glance that crossed my own came like a compliment, or like an asking and a promise that simply lingered in midair between me and the world around me. I was electrified - by the chaffing, the irony, the glances, the smiles that seemed pleased I existed, by the buoyant air in the shop that graced everything from the glass door to the petits fours, to the golden ochre spell of plastic glasses filled with scotch whiskey, to Mr. Venga's rolled up sleeves, to the poet himself, down to the spiral staircase where we had congregated with the babe sisters - all seemed to glow with a luster at once spellbound and aroused. ~ Andre Aciman
He kissed me on the mouth, but it wasn't the kiss after the Pasquino, when he'd pressed me hard against the wall on via Santa Maria dell' Anima. I recognized the taste instantly. I'd never realized how much I liked it or how long I'd missed it. One more thing to log on that checklist of things I'd miss before losing him for good. ~ Andre Aciman
Elio: What were you doing?
Oliver: Thinking.
Elio: About?
Oliver: Things. Going back to the States. The courses I have to teach this fall. The book. You.
Elio: Me?
Oliver: Me?
Elio: No one else?
Oliver: No one else. I come here every night and just sit here. Sometimes I spend hours.
Elio: All by yourself? I never knew. I thougt...
Oliver: I know what you thought. This spot is probably what I'll miss the most. I've been happy in B. I was looking out towards there and thinking that in two weeks I'll be back at Columbia.
Elio: All this means is that in ten days when I look out to this spot, you won't be here. i don't know what I'll do then. At least you'll be elsewhere, where there are no memories. ~ Andre Aciman
I looked at him: I want one more kiss.
I should, could, have seized him.
By the next morning, things became officially chilly. ~ Andre Aciman
Next to it on the wall was a framed postcard of Monet's berm. I recognized it immediately.
'It used to be mine, but you've owned it far, far longer than I have.' We belonged to each other, but had lived so far apart that we belonged to others now. Squatters, and only squatters, were the true claimants to our lives. ~ Andre Aciman
Finally his voice came through. 'Elio,' he said. I could hear my parents and the voices of children in the background. No one could say my name that way. 'Elio,' I repeated, to say it was I speaking but also to spark our old game and show I'd forgotten nothing. 'It's Oliver,' he said. He had forgotten. ~ Andre Aciman
He's the best person I've known in my life, I said on the night when the tiny fishing boat on which he had sailed out with Anchise early that afternoon failed to return and we were scrambling to find his parents' telephone number in the States in case we had to break the terrible news. ~ Andre Aciman
I could spend the rest of my life like this: with him, at night, in Rome, my eyes totally shut, one leg coiled around his. I thought of coming back here in the weeks or months to come - for this was our spot. ~ Andre Aciman
My memories are of denim. I remember being 12 in my Levi's. Wow! As a teenager in Milan, I was really fascinated by Fiorucci, but at the time I was not rich enough to buy. Oh my God! I made a collection of Fiorucci shopping bags, and my mother, she still has them and my stickers, and now I invite Elio Fiorucci to our shows. ~ Stefano Gabbana
But another part of me wanted him to sense that there was no point trying to catch up now - we'd traveled and been through too much without each other for there to be any common ground between us. Perhaps I wanted him to feel the sting of loss, and grieve. But in the end, and by way of compromise, perhaps, I decided that the easiest way was to show I'd forgotten none of it. I made a motion to take him to the empty lot that remained as scorched and fallow as when I'd shown it to him two decades before. I had barely finished my offer - 'Been there, done that,' he replied. It was his way of telling me he hadn't forgotten either. 'Maybe you'd prefer to make a quick stop at the bank.' He burst out laughing. 'I'll bet you they never closed my account.' 'If we have time, and if you care to, I'll take you to the belfry. I know you've never been up there.'
'To-die-for?'
I smiled back. He remembered our name for it. ~ Andre Aciman
Elio: This is my spot. All mine. I come here to read. I can't tell you the number of booksI've read here.
Oliver: Do you like being alone?
Elio: No. No one likes being alone. But I've learned how to live with it.
Oliver: Are you always so very wise?
Elio: I'm not wise at all. I told you, I know nothing. I know books, and I know how to string words togethet - it doesn't mean I know how to speak about the things that matter most to me. ~ Andre Aciman
You lose it, as you always knew you would, and were even prepared to; but you can't bring yourself to live with the loss. And hoping not to think of it, like praying not to dream of it, hurts just the same. ~ Andre Aciman
Nonsense. I wanted you from day one. I just hid it better. ~ Andre Aciman
In years to come, if the book was still in his possession, I wanted him to ache. Better yet, I wanted someone to look through his books one day, open up this tiny volume of Armance, and ask, Tell me who was in silence, somewhere in Italy in the mid-eighties? And then I'd want him to feel something as darting as sorrow and fiercer than regret, maybe even pity for me, because in the bookstore that morning I'd have taken pity too, if pity was all he had to give, if pity could have made him put an arm around me, and underneath his surge of pity and regret, hovering like a vague, erotic undercurrent that was years in the making, I wanted him to remember the morning on Monet's berm when I'd kissed him not the first but the second time and given him my spit in his mouth because I so desperately wanted his in mine. ~ Andre Aciman
and the words were night in the night and we were shadows. ~ Elio Vittorini
But down below along the rocky shore, in the moonlight, I caught sight of him. ~ Andre Aciman
Before long, my mother's friend, who, at the last minute, decided to stay for dinner, was asked to sit where I'd sat at lunch. Oliver's place setting was instantly removed,
The removal was performed summarily, without a hint of regret or compunction, the way you'd remove a bulb that was no longer working, or scrape out the entrails of a butchered sheep, or take off the sheets and blankets from a bed where someone had died. Here, take these, and remove them from sight. I watched his silverware, his place mat, his napkin, his entire being disappear. It presaged exactly what would happen less than a month from now. ~ Andre Aciman
We walked down the back stairwell into the garden where the old breakfast table used to be. 'This was my father's spot. I call it his ghost spot. My spot used to be over there, if you remember.' I pointed to where my old table used to stand by the pool.
'Did I have a spot?' he asked with a half grin.
'You'll always have a spot.'
I wanted to tell him that the pool, the garden, the house, the tennis court, the orle of paradise, the whole place, would always be his ghost spot. Instead, I pointed upstairs to the French windows of his room. Your eyes are forever there, I wanted to say, trapped in the sheer curtains, staring out from my bedroom upstairs where no one sleeps these days. When there's a breeze and they swell and I look up from down here or stand outside on the balcony, I'll catch myself thinking that you're in there, staring out from your world to my world, saying, as you did on that one night when I found you on the rock, I've been happy here. You're thousands of miles away but no sooner do I look at this window than I'll think of a bathing suit, a shirt thrown on on the fly, arms resting on the banister, and you're suddenly there, lighting up your first cigarette of the day - twenty years ago today. For as long as the house stands, this will be your ghost spot - and mine too, I wanted to say. ~ Andre Aciman
can a criminal, using the knowledge of forensic science to his own advantage, reduce his percentage of detection in order to commit the perfect murder? If a criminal knew exactly what investigators were looking for at a crime scene, could they use that to avoid detection? ~ David Elio Malocco
What I forgot to earmark in that promise was that ice and apathy have ways of instantly repealing all truces and resolutions signed in sunnier moments. - Elio ~ Andre Aciman
We were too close, I thought, I'd never been so close to him except in a dream or when he cupped his hand to light my cigarette. If he brought his ear any closer he'd hear my heart. I'd seen it written in novels but never believed it until now. ~ Andre Aciman
And yet, out of the blue, a tender moment would erupt so suddenly between us that the words I longed to tell him would almost slip out of my mouth. ~ Andre Aciman
Wish we could start all over in that room, I said. Both leaning out the window in the evening, rubbing shoulders, as we did in Rome - every day of my life, I said. Every day of mine too. Shirt, toothbrush, score, and I'm flying over, so don't tempt me either. ~ Andre Aciman
Or had I come with a far more menial purpose? To find him living alone, waiting for me, craving to be taken back to B.? Yes, both our lives on the same artificial respirator, waiting for that time when we'd finally meet and scale our way back to the Piave memorial. ~ Andre Aciman
I Love the rain, I Love what it says. ~ Elio Modigliani
The picture would remind Oliver of the morning when I first spoke out. Or of the day when we rode by the berm pretending not to notice it. Or of that day we'd decided to picnic there and had vowed not to touch each other, the better to enjoy lying in bed together the same afternoon. I wanted him to have the picture before his eyes for all time, his whole life, in front of his desk, of his bed, everywhere. Nail it everywhere you go, I thought. ~ Andre Aciman
I hadn't a hope left. And maybe I stared back because there wasn't a thing to lose now. I stared back with the all-knowing, I-dare-you-to-kiss-me gaze of someone who both challenges and flees with one and the same gesture. ~ Andre Aciman
Elio Vittorini observed in 1957 that ever since Napoleon, France had proved impermeable to any foreign influence except German philosophy: and that was still true two decades later... By the time German philosophy had passed through Parisian social thought into English cultural criticism, its difficult vocabulary had achieved a level of expressive opacity that proved irresistible to a new generation of students. ~ Tony Judt
But all of these hours were strained by fear, as if fear were a brooding specter, or a strange, lost bird trapped in our little town, whose sooty wing flecked every living thing with a shadow that would never wash. I didn't know what I was afraid of, nor why I worried so much, nor why this thing that could so easily cause panic felt like hope sometimes and, like hope in the darkest moments, brought such joy, unreal joy, joy with a noose tied around it. The thud my heart gave when I saw him unannounced both terrified and thrilled me. I was afraid when he showed up, afraid when he failed to, afraid when he looked at me, more frightened yet when he didn't. ~ Andre Aciman
Still, the facts are always there. Every teacher, every parent, every priest who serves this kind of neighborhood knows what these inequalities imply. So the sweetness of the moment loses something of its sweetness later on when you're reminded of the odds these children face and of the ways injustice slowly soils innocence. You wish you could eternalize these times of early glory. You wish that Elio and Ariel and Pineapple could stay here in this garden of their juvenile timidity forever. You know they can't. You have a sense of what's ahead. You do your best to shut it out. You want to know them as they are. You do not want to think too much of what may someday be. ~ Jonathan Kozol
Elio: Are you sory I came?
Oliver: I'd holt you and kiss you if I could. ~ Andre Aciman