Intermezzo

I suppose I got attached to being in the right all the time. Which in a way I was. But maybe it’s not good to be too attached to that.

As if Ivan feels inside himself a moving force, coming from inside himself but directed outward, wanting to find a home for itself elsewhere.

It’s like he tried to tell Margaret in the car, beauty belongs to God, and ugliness to human beings, although he couldn’t explain himself very well.