human
Oh, my dear, my dear! she cried in a sort of bewilderment.
gpt
What is it all about? Is there a purpose somewhere in this muddle of things? Why do you say it is not good for people like us to be happy, when others go to the end of their days in calm security? I do not want any--wicked things, Stefan! I only want to be with you always. To take care of you if you are sick, to mend your clothes, and make you comfortable, and--love you. I want us to grow old together, not alone. Oh, my dear, all your life you have been alone; and I can't bear it!--What is the good of this thing that has waked in me at last, if I am not to use it?
human
You are, he said steadily.
gpt
Emotion to be safe must, _must_ translate itself into action.
human
But how, how? By doing for others, you are going to say--but it's such a thankless task, Stefan! A red-blooded woman like me to take to altruism, as some take to drugs!--Why must some of us live so intensely, so consciously, only to be denied again and again the fulfilment that we crave? Sinking our lives into those of lesser people, always of lesser people!
gpt
In the more remote Magyar villages, news of the world comes to the people by means of a sort of minstrel who is called the Cobzar. He is to them not only newsbringer, but historian and poet and philosopher as well. He is treated with respect, they reward his singing with food and wine and a place beside the fire, for it is an honor to be born a Cobzar. But not always a happy honor, Joan. People do not listen to singing that comes out of an empty heart. It is the Cobzar's duty to tell them the story of themselves, and that is only the story of himself, wrought into many forms. Their fears and joys, their failures and their suffering and their hopes--he must be part of it all, and yet apart, that he may not only understand but watch, remembering always his mission to bring life to the knowledge of those who live.
human
Aime-moi, parce que j'ai besoin de ton amour pour mes chansons, Va t'en, parce que j'ai besoin de pleurer pour mes chansons, Meurs, parce que j'ai besoin de chanter la mort pour mes chansons, Car je suis le Cobzar.