Farewell, Beautiful (I capitolo)
“What distinguishes man from beast?” “I know this one.” Matteu gestured towards the bird, plucked clean of its bones, on the table. “Behold!” he glanced at me, and smiled at himself. “A man!” I smiled at him. “Of course.” Francu humored him. “But I mean, we are not communists. Yes? We are not naïve animals driven by material need or carnal pleasure. We live not to suckle on the bolshevik nanny state. We are men. We strive for existence beyond our bodies, for significance beyond eating, sleeping, fucking. What good is a life that exists solely to reproduce itself? What good is survival if not to live for something greater?” “And, I suppose, a life cut short in pursuit of the Good is better spent than one fully lived in the shallow, material prison of our bodies.” “Precisely, Matteu. Carmelo bequeathed unto you this this fertile land, on which he entrusted you to feed the army of Rumë, to start a family with his lovely granddaughter”—he tipped his wine my way—“and to ponder thus what...