Jaunas žmogus kenčia supratęs, kad gyvenimas ne toks, kokį įsivaizdavo. Jei nori, kad sektųsi, turi dantim ir nagais kabintis tik savo naudos, nes niekas kitas tavo nauda nepasirūpins. Bet tie, kuriems sekasi, žaloja sielą. todėl reikėtų rast nuosaikų vidurio kelią - kad turėtum sėkmę, bet ir be žalos sielai. Nebūti blogiausiam iš blogųjų, doriausiam iš dorųjų, pervirš išdidžiam tarp išdidėlių ir pernelyg nuolankiam tarp nuolankiųjų.
Jaunas žmogus kenčia supratęs, kad gyvenimas ne toks, kokį įsivaizdavo. Jei nori, kad sektųsi, turi dantim ir nagais kabintis tik savo naudos, nes niekas kitas tavo nauda nepasirūpins. Bet tie, kuriems sekasi, žaloja sielą, todėl reikėtų rast nuosaikų vidurio kelią - kad turėtum sėkmę, bet ir be žalos sielai. Nebūti blogiausiam iš blogųjų, doriausiam iš dorųjų, pervirš išdidžiam tarp išdidėlių ir pernelyg nuolankiam tarp nuolankiųjų.
Er is slechts één rijkdom en dat zijn de banden tussen de mensen onderling.Als we ons enkel en alleen inspannen voor materieel gewin, bouwen we onze eigen gevangenis. Dan veroordelen we onszelf tot eenzame opsluiting, met onze munten van as waarmee we niets kunnen kopen dat het waard is om voor te leven. Translation via Google translate: There is only one wealth and that are the ties between people.If we only strive for material gain, we build our own prison. Then we condemn ourselves to solitary confinement, with our coins of ash with which we can't buy anything that is worth living for.
Maybe it's just not the right time for us to be married. I don't want to be a bounty hunter for the rest of my life, but I certainly don't want to be a housewife right now. And I really don't want to be married to someone who gives me ultimatums.And maybe Joe needs to examine what he wants from a wife. He was raised in a traditional Italian household with a stay-at-home mother and domineering father. If he wants a wife who will fit into that mold, I'm not for him. I might be a stay-at-home mother someday, but I'll always be trying to fly off the garage roof. That's just who I am.
And the stars: the sky gets crowded at night, and it is a bit like watching a clock, seeing the constellations slide across the sky. It’s comforting to know that they’ll show up, however bad the day has been, however crook things get. That used to help in France. It put things into perspective—the stars had been around since before there were people. They just kept shining, no matter what was going on. I think of the light here like that, like a splinter of a star that’s fallen to earth: it just shines, no matter what is happening. Summer, winter, storm, fine weather. People can rely on it.
Žmogaus likimas – tarsi medžio šaka. Augo sau tiesiai, bet kažkas eidamas pro šalį ėmė ir palaužė ją atsainia ranka. Šaka sugijo, tačiau atūžė audra. Sulinko šaka nuo vėjo, bet išsistiebė aukštyn. Atsirėmė į kitą šaką ir nulinko žemyn. Bet vistiek auga šaka. Vis tiek – džiaugiasi pavasariu, vis tiek –svilina ją speigas ir daužo kruša. Kreiva šaka, randuota, bet gyva. O kokia ji galėjo būti – to dabar jau niekas nepasakys.
Žmogaus likimas – tarsi medžio šaka. Augo sau tiesiai, bet kažkas eidamas pro šalį ėmė ir palaužė ją atsainia ranka. Šaka sugijo, tačiau atūžė audra. Sulinko šaka nuo vėjo, bet išsistiebė aukštyn. Atsirėmė į kitą šaką ir nulinko žemyn. Bet vis tiek auga šaka. Vis tiek – džiaugiasi pavasariu, vis tiek – svilina ją speigas ir daužo kruša. Kreiva šaka, randuota, bet gyva. O kokia ji galėjo būti – to dabar jau niekas nepasakys.
Život nije otporan na veliku temperaturu. Zbog toga sam došao do zaključka da najuznemireniji ljudi, sa unutrašnjim dinamizmom dovedeni do paroksizma, koji ne mogu prihvatiti uobičajenu temperaturu, moraju propasti. To je aspekt životnog demonizma, ali i aspekt njegovog nedostatka; on objašnjava zašto je život privilegija mediokriteta. Samo mediokriteti žive na normalnoj temperaturi života; ostali se troše na temperaturama koje život ne podnosi, gde ne mogu da dišu, osim ako se nalaze jednom nogom s one strane života. Ne mogu doneti ništa na ovaj svijet, jer imam samo jedan metod: metod agonije...
Δεν μας αρέσει η ζωή. Δεν την ευχαριστιόμαστε. Κι όμως η ζωή πρέπει να είναι μεγάλο προνόμιο αφού πρέπει να την πληρώσουμε με το θάνατο.
We all think we understand each other,' Kin heard Silver say. 'We eat together, we trade, many of us pride ourselves on having alien friends - but all this is only possible, only possible, Kin, because we do not fully comprehend the other. You've studied Earth history. Do you think you could understand the workings of of the mind of a Japanese warrior a thousand years ago? But he is as a twin to you compare with Marco, or with myself. When we use the word "cosmopolitan" we use it too lightly - it's flippant, it means we're galactic tourists who communicate in superficialities. We don't comprehend. Different worlds, Kin. Different anvils of gravity and radiation and evolution.
We all think we understand each other,' Kin heard Silver say. 'We eat together, we trade, many of us pride ourselves on having alien friends - but all this is only possible, only possible, Kin, because we do not fully comprehend the other. You've studied Earth history. Do you think you could understand the workings of of the mind of a Japanese warrior a thousand years ago? But he is as a twin to you compared with Marco, or with myself. When we use the word "cosmopolitan" we use it too lightly - it's flippant, it means we're galactic tourists who communicate in superficialities. We don't comprehend. Different worlds, Kin. Different anvils of gravity and radiation and evolution.
साहित्यले मानिसलाई निखार्छ । शुद्द बनाउँछ । यो एउटा आत्म शुद्दीकरणको प्रक्रिया हो । मान्छेलाई जीवन जिउन सिकाउने कला हो ।
خرج جوادٌ من مكانٍ غير معروفحمَلَنا حيثُ ذُقنا هُنا كلُ العِشقوحتى لم نعُد نحيا كذلك، هذا الطَعمُ!خمرٌ، نستقيهِ على الدوام.
The thing is, someday the sun is going to die and everything on Earth will freeze. This will happen. Even if we end global warming and clean up our radiation. The complete works of William Shakespeare, Monet’s lilies, all of Hemingway, all of Milton, all of Keats, our music libraries, our library libraries, our galleries, our poetry, our letters, our names etched in desks. I used to think printing things made them permanent, but that seems so silly now. Everything will be destroyed no matter how hard we work to create it. The idea terrifies me. I want tiny permanents. I want gigantic permanents! I want what I think and who I am captured in an anthology of indulgence I can comfortingly tuck into a shelf in some labyrinthine library.
I sat at my desk, poured myself a glass of wine, and pondered life...my profession...was it meaningless? I took a long, drawn-back swig of the bourbon and slammed down the glass. I only then noticed the stream of filtered light illuminating through the window, through the partially drawn shades. It was beautiful. I thought to myself, "I am a critic. My life is criticizing the works of others, the joys of others, the very essence of what others have toiled, agonized and gone mad over. "I am a critic. I write in a magazine about how I don't like what someone else likes, merely because they wrote it." Write what you love, they always say. "I am a hater," I said, pondering the beautiful sunlight and my glass of alcohol, "...but I hate for the enjoyment of others.
