“If I'm sincere today, what does it matter if I regret it tomorrow?”
“Inside us there is something that has no name, that something is what we are.”
“I don't think we did go blind, I think we are blind, Blind but seeing, Blind people who can see, but do not see.”
“The difficult thing isn't living with other people, it's understanding them.”
“Perhaps only in a world of the blind will things be what they truly are.”
“You never know beforehand what people are capable of, you have to wait, give it time, it's time that rules, time is our gambling partner on the other side of the table and it holds all the cards of the deck in its hand, we have to guess the winning cards of life, our lives.”
“!ما أصعب أن يكون المرء مبصراً في مجتمع أعمى”
“Se podes olhar, vê. Se podes ver, repara.”
“فالعمى هو أيضاً أن تعيش في عالم انعدم فيه كل أمل”
“Words are like that, they deceive, they pile up, it seems they do not know where to go, and, suddenly, because of two or three or four that suddenly come out, simple in themselves, a personal pronoun, an adverb, an adjective, we have the excitement of seeing them coming irresistibly to the surface through the skin and the eyes and upsetting the composure of our feelings, sometimes the nerves that can not bear it any longer, they put up with a great deal, they put up with everything, it was as if they were wearing armor, we might say.”
“لا أعتقد أننا أصبنا بالعمى، بل نحن عميان من البداية. حتى لو كنا نرى.. لم نكن حقاً نرى”
“If we cannot live entirely like human beings, at least let us do everything in our power not to live entirely like animals.”
“When all is said and done, what is clear is that all lives end before their time.”
“عندما يبدأ شخص ما بتنازلات صغيرة, فإن الحياة تفقد كل معناها في النهاية .”
“إن أردت أن تحظى بخدمة ممتازة اخدم نفسك بنفسك.”
“Se antes de cada acto nosso nos puséssemos a prever todas as consequências dele, a pensar nelas a sério, primeiro as imediatas, depois as prováveis, depois as possíveis, depois as imagináveis, não chegaríamos sequer a mover-nos de onde o primeiro pensamento nos tivesse feito parar.”
“جميل اننا ما زلنا قادرين على البكاء فالدموع هي خلاصنا إذ ان هناك اوقاتا ان لم نستطع البكاء فيها فسوف نموت”
“عندما نلاحظ يوماً, أننا لانستطيع فعل شيء جيد ونافع فيجب أن نمتلك الشجاعة كي نغادر هذا العالم ببساطة”
“Há esperanças que é loucura ter. Pois eu digo-te que se não fossem essas já eu teria desistido da vida.”
“If, before every action, we were to begin by weighing up the consequences, thinking about them in earnest, first the immediate consequences, then the probable, then the possible, then the imaginable ones, we should never move beyond the point where our first thought brought us to a halt. The good and evil resulting from our words and deeds go on apportioning themselves, one assumes in a reasonably uniform and balanced way, throughout all the days to follow, including those endless days, when we shall not be here to find out, to congratulate ourselves or ask for pardon, indeed there are those who claim that this is the much talked of immortality.”
“Just as the habit does not make the monk, the sceptre does not make the king.”
“blindness is a private matter between a person and the eyes with which he or she was born.”
“الأجوبة لا تأتي دائمًا عند الحاجة إليها”
“الصعوبة لاتكمن في معايشة الناس إنما في فهمهم .”
“شكراً لتجربة الحياة القاسية، المعلم الأساسي لكل الانضباطات”
“...the habit of falling hardens the body, reaching the ground, to in itself, is a relief.”
“عندما نكون في محنة كبيرة وقد أُصبنا بوباء الألم والكرب عندئذٍ يصبح الجانب الحيواني في طبيعتنا أكثر وضوحاً.”
“La ceguera también es esto, vivir en un mundo donde se ha acabado la esperanza”
“All at once, in his dangerous position, Ćorkan felt himself separated from his companions. He was now like some gigantic monster above them. His first steps were slow and hesitating. His heavy clogs kept slipping on the stones covered with ice. It seemed to him that his legs were failing him, that the depths below attracted him irresistibly, that he must slip and fall, that he was already falling. But his unusual position and the nearness of great danger gave him strength and hitherto unknown powers. [...] Instead of walking, he began to dance, he himself did not know how, as free as if he had been on a wide green field and not on that narrow and icy edge.
All of a sudden he felt himself light and skilful as a man sometimes in dreams. His heavy and exhausted body felt without weight. The drunken Ćorkan danced and floated above the depths as if on wings. [...] His dance bore him onward where his walk would never have borne him- No longer thinking of the danger of the possibility of a fall, he leapt from one leg to the other and sang with outstretched arms as accompanying himself on a drum.”
“And could a man sink to such triviality, such meanness, such nastiness? Could he change so much? And is it true to life? Yes, it is all true to life. All this can happen to a man. The ardent youth of today would start back in horror if you could show him his portrait in old age. As you pass from the soft years of youth into harsh, hardening manhood, be sure you take with you on the way all the humane emotions, do not leave them on the road: you will not pick them up again afterwards!”
“The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.”
“I like storms. Thunder torrential rain, puddles, wet shoes. When the clouds roll in, I get filled with this giddy expectation. Everything is more beautiful in the rain. Don't ask me why. But it’s like this whole other realm of opportunity. I used to feel like a superhero, riding my bike over the dangerously slick roads, or maybe an Olympic athlete enduring rough trials to make it to the finish line. On sunny days, as a girl, I could still wake up to that thrilled feeling. You made me giddy with expectation, just like a symphonic rainstorm. You were a tempest in the sun, the thunder in a boring, cloudless sky. I remember I’d shovel in my breakfast as fast as I could, so I could go knock on your door. We’d play all day, only coming back for food and sleep. We played hide and seek, you’d push me on the swing, or we’d climb trees. Being your sidekick gave me a sense of home again. You see, when I was ten, my mom died. She had cancer, and I lost her before I really knew her. My world felt so insecure, and I was scared. You were the person that turned things right again. With you, I became courageous and free. It was like the part of me that died with my mom came back when I met you, and I didn’t hurt if I knew I had you. Then one day, out of the blue, I lost you, too. The hurt returned, and I felt sick when I saw you hating me. My rainstorm was gone, and you became cruel. There was no explanation. You were just gone. And my heart was ripped open. I missed you. I missed my mom. What was worse than losing you, was when you started to hurt me. Your words and actions made me hate coming to school. They made me uncomfortable in my own home. Everything still hurts, but I know none of it is my fault. There are a lot of words that I could use to describe you, but the only one that includes sad, angry, miserable, and pitiful is “coward.” I a year, I’ll be gone, and you’ll be nothing but some washout whose height of existence was in high school. You were my tempest, my thunder cloud, my tree in the downpour. I loved all those things, and I loved you. But now? You’re a fucking drought. I thought that all the assholes drove German cars, but it turns out that pricks in Mustangs can still leave scars.”
“Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends."
How can he explain that to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from the castle walls, but from counting houses, not be the call of the bugle, but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot.”
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