Smultronstället

In our relations with other people, we mainly discuss and evaluate their character and behavior.

Reciting poetry is against our agreement not to discuss God or science on this trip.

There's neither right nor wrong. We act according to our needs.

We all have our bright moments, dear Mother.

Religion for the people — opium for the aching limb.

A woman has a right to her tears, eh? Don't get in the way of a woman's tears.

The place where wild strawberries grow! Perhaps I got a little sentimental. Perhaps I got a little tired and felt a bit sad. It's not impossible that I began to think of this and that, associated with places where I played as a child. I don't know how it happened, but the day's clear reality dissolved into the even clearer images of memory that appeared before my eyes with the strength of a true stream of events.

My wife likes ridiculing me. I let her. It's psychotherapy.

— There should be a law forbidding women to smoke. <...> No, give me a cigar anytime. That's stimulating and relaxing. That's a vice for men.
— And what vices may a woman have?
— Weeping, giving birth and speaking ill of her neighbors.

— Have you looked in the mirror, Isak? Then I'll show you what you look like. You're a worried old man who's soon going to die, but I have all my life before me. That hurt your feelings, after all.
— No, it didn't hurt.
— Yes, it hurt because you can't bear the truth. The truth is that I've been too considerate. And so became unintentionally cruel.
— I understand.
— No, you don't understand. We don't speak the same language. Look in the mirror again. No, don't turn away.
— I see.
— Listen to me. I'm going to marry your brother Sigfrid. Love is almost a game for us. Look at your face now. Try to smile! There! Now you're smiling.
— But it hurts so.
— As professor emeritus, you ought to know why it hurts. But you don't know. You know so much, and you don't know anything.