Vegetarian Han Kang Quotes

Why, is it such a bad thing to die?

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure. She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm. Her devotion to doing things the right way had been unflagging, all her successes had depended on it, and she would have gone on like that indefinitely. She didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived.

Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow through my veins.

She's a good woman, he thought. The kind of woman whose goodness is oppressive.

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure.

Life is such a strange thing, she thinks, once she has stopped laughing. Even after certain things have happened to them, no matter how awful the experience, people still go on eating and drinking, going to the toilet and washing themselves - living, in other words. And sometimes they even laugh out loud. And they probably have these same thoughts, too, and when they do it must make them cheerlessly recall all the sadness they'd briefly managed to forget.

Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness as it whisked her life downstream, a life she had to constantly strain to keep from breaking apart.

When a person undergoes such a drastic transformation, there's simply nothing anyone else can do but sit back and let them get on with it.

There's nothing wrong with keeping quiet, after all, hadn't women traditionally been expected to be demure and restrained?

She was no longer able to cope with all that her sister reminded her of. She'd been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she'd never even known they were there.

It's your body, you can treat it however you please. The only area where you're free to do just as you like.

This was the body of a beautiful young woman, conventionally an object of desire, and yet it was a body from which all desire had been eliminated. But this was nothing so crass as carnal desire, not for her—rather, or so it seemed, what she had renounced was the very life that her body represented.

This was the body of a beautiful young woman, conventionally an object of desire, and yet it was a body from which all desire had been eliminated.

Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time. If so, she would naturally have no energy left, not just for curiosity or interest but indeed for any meaningful response to all the humdrum minutiae that went on on the surface.

The pain feels like a hole swallowing her up, a source of intense fear and yet, at the same time, a strange, quiet peace.

Look, sister, I'm doing a handstand; leaves are growing out of my body, roots are sprouting out of my hands...they delve down into the earth. Endlessly, endlessly...yes, I spread my legs because I wanted flowers to bloom from my crotch; I spread them wide...

I’m not an animal anymore, sister,” she said, first scanning the empty ward as if about to disclose a momentous secret. “I don’t need to eat, not now. I can live without it. All I need is sunlight.

It’s your body, you can treat it however you please. The only area where you’re free to do just as you like. And even that doesn’t turn out how you wanted.

the sight of her lying there utterly without resistance, yet armored by the power of her own renunciation, was so intense as to bring tears to his eyes.

I have dreams too, you know. Dreams…and I could let myself dissolve into them, let them take me over…but surely the dream isn’t all there is? We have to wake up at some point, don’t we? Because…because then…

Her life was no more than a ghostly pageant of exhausted endurance, no more real than a television drama. Death, who now stood by her side, was as familiar to her as a family member, missing for a long time but now returned.

It melted in the rain ... it all melted ... I'd been just about to go down into the earth. There was nothing else for it if I wanted to turn myself upside down again, you see.

Yells and howls, threaded together layer upon layer, are enmeshed to form that lump. Because of meat. I ate too much meat. The lives of the animals I ate have all lodged there. Blood and flesh, all those butchered bodies are scattered in every nook and cranny, and though the physical remnants were excreted, their lives still stick stubbornly to my insides.

Perhaps the only things he truly loved were his images—those he’d filmed, or then again, perhaps only those he had yet to film.

If only one’s eyes weren’t visible to others, she thinks. If only one could hide one’s eyes from the world.

I was convinced that there was more going on here than a simple case of vegetarianism.

Such uncanny serenity actually frightened him, making him think that perhaps this was a surface impression left behind after any amount of unspeakable viciousness had been digested, or else settled down inside her as a kind of sediment.

For the first time, she became vividly aware of how much of her life she had spent with her husband. It had been a period of time utterly devoid of happiness and spontaneity. A time that she'd so far managed to get through only by using up every last reserve of perseverance and consideration. All of it self-inflicted.

Can only trust my breasts now. I like my breasts, nothing can be killed by them. Hand, foot, tongue, gaze, all weapons from which nothing is safe. But not my breasts. With my round breasts, I’m okay. Still okay. So why do they keep on shrinking? Not even round anymore. Why? Why am I changing like this? Why are my edges all sharpening–what am I going to gouge

Sister,” Yeong-hye said, her voice low and calm as if intending to comfort her. Yeong-hye’s old black sweater gave off the faint scent of mothballs. When In-hye didn’t answer, Yeong-hye whispered one more time. “Sister…all the trees of the world are like brothers and sisters.

Before my wife turned vegetarian, I'd always thought of her as completely unremarkable in every way

The kind of woman whose goodness is oppressive

She watches the streaks of rain lashing the window, with the untouched steadiness unique to those accustomed to solitude.

It called to mind something ancient, something pre-evolutionary, or else perhaps a mark of photosynthesis, and he realized to his surprise that there was nothing at all sexual about it; it was more vegetal than sexual.

I don’t know you,” she muttered, tightening her grip on the receiver, which she’d hung back in the cradle but was still clutching. “So there’s no need for us to forgive each other. Because I don’t know you.

As for women who were pretty, intelligent, strikingly sensual, the daughters of rich families—they would only have served to disrupt my carefully ordered existence

Nobody can help me. Nobody can save me. Nobody can make me breathe.

It seemed enough for her to just deal with whatever it was that came her way, calmly and without fuss.

She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm. Her devotion to doing things the right way had been unflagging, all her success had depended on it, and she would have gone on like that indefinitely. She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived.

Only Yeong-hye, docile and naive, had been unable to deflect their father's temper or put up any form of resistance. Instead, she had merely absorbed all her suffering inside her, deep into the marrow of her bones. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, In-hye could see that the role that she had adopted back then of the hard-working, self-sacrificing eldest daughter had been a sign not of maturity but of cowardice. It had been a survival tactic.

Dreams overlaid with dreams, a palimpsest of horror.

There is something battened down about the woods in this torrential rain, like a huge animal suppressing a roar.

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had never done nothing but endure. She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm.

I am not an animal anymore

Was he a normal human being? More than that, a moral human being? A strong human being, able to control his own impulses?

He didn't know if her desperate efforts to be understanding and considerate were a good or bad thing. Perhaps it was all down to him being self-centered and irresponsible. But right now he found his wife's patience and desire to do the right thing stifling, which made him still more inclined to see it as a flaw in her character.

Yeong-hye doesn't vomit; instead, she opens her eyes. Her black pupils fix on In-hye. What is stirring behind those eyes? What is she harboring inside her, beyond the reach of her sister's imagination? What terror, what anger, what agony, what hell?

Never before had he set eyes on such a body, a body which said so much and yet was no more than itself.

Stop eating meat and the world will devour you whole.

If only one’s eyes weren’t visible to others, she thinks. If only one could hide one’s eyes from the world.

constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there.

She is a good woman, he thought. The type of woman whose goodness is oppressive.

Now and then, all of this struck me as being not so much ridiculous as faintly ominous. What if, by chance, these early-stage symptoms didn’t pass? If the hints at hysteria, delusion, weak nerves and so on, that I thought I could detect in what she said, ended up leading to something more?

Quietly, she breathes in. The trees by the side of the road are blazing, green fire undulating like the rippling flanks of a massive animal, wild and savage. In-hye stares fiercely at the trees. As if waiting for an answer. As if protesting against something. The look in her eyes is dark and insistent.

Only Yeong-hye, docile and naive, had been unable to deflect their father’s temper or put up any form of resistance. Instead, she had merely absorbed all her suffering inside her, deep into the marrow of her bones.

The more she laughs, the more he ups the ante with his clowning. By the time he finishes he will have run through all the secret mysteries of laughter that human beings have ever understood, mobilizing everything at his disposal. There is no way for him to know how guilty it makes his mother feel, seeing such a young child go to such lengths just to wring a bit of apparent happiness from her, or that her laughter will all eventually run out.

But this was nothing so crass as carnal desire, not for her—rather, or so it seemed, what she had renounced was the very life that her body represented. The sunlight that came splintering through the wide window, dissolving into grains of sand, and the beauty of that body that, though this was not visible to the eye, was also ceaselessly splintering…the overwhelming inexpressibility of the scene beat against him like a wave breaking on the rocks, alleviating even those terrifyingly unknowable compulsions...

She was no longer able to cope with all that her sister reminded her of. She’d been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there.

وهل الموت أمر سيء ؟

His silence had the heavy mass of rock and the tenacious resistance of rubber, particularly when his art wasn't going well.

Αντί να προκαλεί πόθο, ήταν ένα σώμα που έκανε κάποιον να θέλει να ξεκουράσει το βλέμμα του πανω του.

… she was nothing but a child who has never lived.

She took one more look around at the various objects inside the house. They did not belong to her. Just like her life had never belonged to her. Her life was no more than a ghostly pageant of exhausted endurance, no more real than a television drama. Death, who now stood by her side, was as familiar to her as a family member, missing for a long time but now returned.

She hadn't understood what that cold moisture had been trying to say, as it drenched her battered body and spread through her dried-up veins. It had simply leached through into her flesh, down to her very bones.

A person had attacked her own body right in front of his eyes, tried to hack at it like it was a piece of meat; her blood had soaked his white shirt, mingling with his sweat and gradually drying to a dark brown stain.

الذي يؤلمني هو صدري. هناك شيء يصفع الأعصاب في أحشائي. لا أدري ماذا عساه أن يكون لكنه لا يبارحني باستمرار هذه الأيام. ورغم أني توقفت عن ارتداء حمالة الصدر، فما زلت أشعر بذلك النتوء. ومهما أخذت شهيقا بعمق، لا أشع بالراحة في صدري.

I wish I were dead. So die. He couldn't understand why the words "I wish I were dead" were ceaselessly being hammered out inside his head like an incantation. Nor could he understand why the words "so die" would inevitably follow.

Me puse cabeza abajo y entonces me empezaron a nacer hojas en el cuerpo y también me salieron raíces de las manos... Las raíces se fueron metiendo bajo la tierra...más y más ... Y como estaba a punto de nacerme una flor en el pubis, abrí las piernas... las abrí bien...

Even as a child, In-hye had possessed the innate strength of a character necessary to make one's own way in life. As a daughter, as an older sister, as a wife and as a mother, as the owner of a shop, even as an underground passenger on the briefest of journeys, she had always done her best. Through the sheer inertia pf a life lived in this way, she would have been able to conquer everything, even time. If only Yeong-hye hadn't suddenly disappeared last March. If only she hadn't been discovered in the forest that rainy night. If only all of her symptoms hadn't suddenly got worse.

She made no move to investigate the unfamiliar space, and showed none of the emotions that one might expect. It seemed enough for her to just deal with whatever it was that came her way, calmly and without fuss. Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time. If so, she would naturally have no energy left, not just for curiosity or interest but indeed for any meaningful response to all the humdrum minutiae that went on on the surface.

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure. She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm. Her devotion to doing things the right way had been unflagging, all her success had depended on it, and she would have gone on like that indefinitely. She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived.

Her voice had no weight to it, like feathers. It was neither gloomy nor absentminded, as might be expected of someone who was ill. But it wasn’t bright or light-hearted either. It was the quiet tone of a person who didn’t belong anywhere, someone who had passed into a border area between states of being.

happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time. If so, she would naturally have no energy left, not just for curiosity or interest but indeed for any meaningful response to all the humdrum minutiae that went on on the surface.

She’d been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there.

Perhaps, at some point, Yeong-hye had simply let fall the slender thread which had kept her connected with everyday life. During the past insomniac months, In-hye had sometimes felt as though she was living in a state of total chaos. If it hadn’t been for Ji-woo – if it hadn’t been for the sense of responsibility she felt towards him – perhaps she too might have relinquished her grip on that thread.

Το μόνο πράγμα που εμπιστεύομαι είναι το στήθος μου. Μου αρέσει το στήθος μου. Επειδή το στήθος μου δεν μπορεί να σκοτώσει τίποτα. Τα χέρια, τα πόδια, τα δόντια και η κοφτερή γλώσσα, ακόμα και το βλέμμα, είναι όπλα που μπορούν να καταστρέψουν τα πάντα. Αλλά το στήθος ποτέ. Όσο έχω το στρογγυλό στήθος μου θα είμαι εντάξει. Ναι είμαι εντάξει μέχρι τώρα. Τότε γιατί το στήθος μου χάνει το σχήμα του και μαραίνεται; Δεν είναι στρογγυλό πια. Γιατί; Γιατί συνέχεια χάνω βάρος; Τι πράγμα θέλει να τρυπήσει κι ολόκληρο το σώμα μου γίνεται τόσο κοφτερό;

The innumerable trees she's seen over the course of all her life, the undulating forests that blanket the continents like a heartless sea, envelop her exhausted body and lift her up. Only fragments of cities, small towns and roads are visible, floating on the roof of the forest like islands or bridges, slowly being swept away somewhere, borne on those warm waves. There's no way for In-hye to know what on earth those waves are saying. Or what those trees she'd seen at the end of the narrow mountain path, clustered together like green flames in the early-morning half-light, had been saying. Whatever it was, there had been no warmth in it. Whatever the words were, they hadn't been words of comfort, words that would help her pick herself up. Instead they were merciless, and the trees that had spoken them were a frighteningly chill form of life. Even when she turned about on the spot and searched in all directions, In-hye hadn't been able to find a tree that would take her life from her. Some of the trees had refused to accept her. They'd just stood there, stubborn and solemn yet alive as animals, bearing up the weight of their own massive bodies.

I have always inclined towards the middle course in life. At school i chose to boss around those who were two or three years my junior, and with whom i could act the ringleader rather than take my chances with those my own age and later i chose which college to apply to based on my chances of obtaining a scholarship large enough for my needs. Ultimately, i settled for a job where i would be provided with a decent monthly salary in return for diligently carrying out my allotted tasks, at a company whose small size meant they would value my unremarkable skills. And so it was natural that i would marry the most run-of-the-mill woman in the world. As for women who were pretty, intelligent, strikingly sensual, the daughters of rich families; they would only ever have served to disrupt my carefully ordered existence.

Se solo i nostri occhi non fossero visibili agli altri, pensa. Se solo si potessero nascondere i propri occhi al mondo.

Io non ti conosco" mormorò, stringendo più forte la cornetta, che aveva poggiato sulla forcella ma teneva ancora in mano. "Quindi non c'è nessun bisogno di un perdono reciproco. Perché non ti conosco".

She is a good woman, he thought. The kind of woman whose goodness is oppressive.

It seemed enough for her to just deal with whatever it was that came her way, calmly and without fuss. Or perhaps it was simply that things were happening inside her, terrible things, which no one else could even guess at, and thus it was impossible for her to engage with everyday life at the same time.

Respect—that was what she’d taken his words to connote, but might they not in fact have been intended as a confession, that whatever it was he felt for her, it was nothing even remotely resembling love?

How on earth could a complete stranger be expected to tease out the inner logic of something he himself had dreamed up, to find a way to make it come alive?

He had to force himself to accept that the middle-aged man, who had a baseball cap concealing his receding hairline and a baggy sweater at least attempting to do the same for his paunch, was himself.

Even as a child, In-hye had possessed the innate strength of character necessary to make one's own way in life. As a daughter, as an older sister, as a wife and a mother, as the owner of a shop, even as an underground passenger on the briefest of journeys, she had always done her best. Through the sheer inertia of a life lived in this way, she would have been able to conquer everything, even time.

Her life was no more than a ghostly pageant of exhausted endurance, no more real than a television drama.

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure.

The only times when the pain simply, miraculously ceases, are those moments just after she laughs.

It's your body, you can treat it however you please. The only area where you're free to do just as you like. And even that doesn't turn out how you wanted.

Na to, až se rozpustím v dešti... až se docela rozpustím... a budu se moct vsáknout do mokré hlíny. Protože jestli chci znovu vzklíčit a vyrůst, není jiná možnost

I have dreams too, you know. Dreams... and I could let myself dissolve into them, let them take over... but surely the dream isn`t all there is? We have to wake up at some point, don`t we? Because... because then...

One more time, just one more time. I want to shout. I want to throw myself through the pitch-black window. Maybe that would finally get this lump out of my body. Yes, perhaps that might work. Nobody can help me. Nobody can save me. Nobody can make me breathe.

she turns to look at the zelkova tree that stands in the hospital’s front garden. The tree is clearly very old, easily four hundred years. On bright days it would spread its countless branches and let the sunlight scintillate its leaves, seemingly communicating something to her. Today, a day sodden and stupefied with rain, it is reticent, and keeps its thoughts unspoken. The old bark on its lower part is dark as a drenched evening, and the leaves tremble silently on the twigs as the raindrops batter down on them. And she sees her sister’s face, flickering like a ghostly afterimage overlaid on the silent scene.

Yeong-hye moved her emaciated face closer to her sister. “I’m not an animal anymore, sister,” she said, first scanning the empty ward as if about to disclose a momentous secret. “I don’t need to eat, not now. I can live without it. All I need is sunlight.” “What are you talking about? Do you really think you’ve turned into a tree? How could a plant talk? How can you think these things?” Yeong-hye’s eyes shone. A mysterious smile played on her face. “You’re right. Soon now, words and thoughts will all disappear. Soon.” Yeong-hye burst into laughter, then sighed. “Very soon. Just a bit longer to wait, sister.

Sua pele tinha um tom verde esmaecido; seu corpo de bruços parecia uma folha recém-caída do galho, embora não estivesse completamente seca. Já não se via a mancha mongólica, e sim aquele verde desbotado, distribuído por toda a pele. Ele a virou, de modo que ela ficasse com a boca para cima. Um raio de luz ofuscante irradiou da cabeça para o colo, impedindo que seu busto ficasse visível. Entreabriu suas pernas com as mãos e, ao não encontrá-las rígidas, notou que ela estava acordada. Quando a penetrou, um suco verde, semelhante ao de folhas trituradas, começou a escorrer de sua vagina. O cheiro agradável e ao mesmo tempo amargo de planta o deixou cada vez mais zonzo, dificultando sua respiração. Um pouco antes de gozar, ele tirou o corpo de dentro dela e percebeu que seu pau estava totalmente manchado de verde, assim como seu abdômen e suas coxas, tudo coberto por aquele suco refrescante de planta, que não dava pistas de onde vinha: se dela ou dele.

Is Yeong-hye trying to turn herself back into a preadolescent? She hasn’t had her period for a long time now, and now that her weight has dropped below thirty kilos, of course there’s nothing left of her breasts. She lies there looking like a freakish overgrown child, devoid of any secondary sexual characteristics.

Perhaps the only things he truly loved were his images - those he had filmed, or then again, perhaps only those he had yet to film.

Everything starts to feel unfamiliar. Like I’ve come up to the back of something. Shut up behind a door without a handle. Perhaps I’m only now coming face-to-face with the thing that has always been here. It’s dark. Everything is being snuffed out in the pitch-black darkness.