Не подозират, че силни са само свободните да бъдат себе си - онези, които творят историята си, а не подръжават на по-могъщите... (цар Симеон)

Della ricchezza non ci importa nulla.Del potere non ci importa nulla.Di voi ricchi potenti famosi signori dell’economia e della politica e della cultura, di tutti voi vincenti non c’importa nulla.E state pur certi che non tenteremo di rubarvi il posto, non tenteremo di portarvi via il pane d’oro, state pur certi che delle vostre grandi cose non desideriamo nulla.Perché sempre di più, e sempre più spesso, noi andiamo alla ricerca dei secondi, dei minuti, delle ore lente. Sempre di più desideriamo il vuoto, la leggerezza, la pace d’un soffio di vento che giunge da lontano e che va lontano.A voi ricchi potenti famosi signori, a tutti voi, lasciamo volentieri questo mondo qui.Noi ci prendiamo tutto il resto, noi ci prendiamo la vita.

ومع ذلك فإني أكره أن أرى بحث أولادي منتهياً حيث انتهيت, بل إن أملي الكبير هو أن يبدؤوا من حيث أنتهي, وذلك لأنه ليس ثمة جواب نهائي و كامل لأي إنسان.

You shall see rude and sturdy, experienced and wise men, keeping their castles, or teaming up their summer’s wood, or chopping alone in the woods, men fuller of talk and rare adventure in the sun and wind and rain, than a chestnut is of meat; who were out not only in ‘75 and 1812, but have been out every day of their lives; greater men than Homer, or Chaucer, or Shakespeare, only they never got time to say so; they never took to the way of writing. Look at their fields, and imagine what they might write, if ever they should put pen to paper. Or what have they not written on the face of the earth already, clearing, and burning, and scratching, and harrowing, and plowing, and subsoiling, in and in, and out and out, and over and over, again and again, erasing what they had already written for want of parchment.

Did I help someone to realize a dream they thought they'd lost? Did I listen when someone told me the reward is worth the cost? Did I praise someone for their efforts and encourage someone toward their dreams? Did I help someone to understand the end never justifies the means? Did I make someone laugh and smile when they would much, rather frown? Was I the one who picked them up when everyone put them down? Am I, the one they confide in and know their conversations secure? Did I provide them with someone to trust in knowing their friendship will always endure? Am I humble and constantly striving to become more than I was yesterday? Did I focus on the successes of others and follow through with all that I say? If I constantly strive to become the one who can say I did to did I's. Then my life is fulfilled, knowing I have achieved life's greatest prize.

I' was the last word I was able to speak aloud, which is a terrible thing, but there it is, I would walk around the neighborhood saying, 'I I I I.' 'You want a cup of coffee, Thomas?''I.' 'And maybe something sweet?''I.' 'How about this weather?''I.' 'You look upset. Is anything wrong?' I wanted to say, 'Of course,' I wanted to ask, 'Is anything right?' I wanted to pull the thread, unravel the scarf of my silence and start again from the beginning, but instead I said 'I.' I know I'm not alone in this disease, you hear the old people in the street and some of them are moaning, 'Ay yay yay,' but some of them are clinging to their last word, 'I,' they're saying, because they're desperate, it's not a complaint, it's a prayer, and then I lost 'I' and my silence was complete.

Nothing returns, nothing begins anew; it is never the same thing, and yet it seems always the same. For, if the days never return, every moment brings forth new beings whose destiny it will be to create for themselves, in the course of their lives, the same illusions that have companioned and at times illuminated ours. The fabric is eternal; eternal, the embroidery. A universe dies when we die; another is born when a new creature comes to earth with a new sensibility. If, then, it is very true that nothing begins all over again, it is very just to say, too, that everything continues. One may fearlessly advance the latter statement or the former, according to whether one considers the individual or the blending of generations. From this second point of view, everything is coexistent; the same cause produces contradictory, yet logical effects. All the colors and their shades are printed at a single impression, to form the wonderful image we call life.

It always has been and always will be the same. The old folk of our grandfathers' young days sang a song bearing exactly the same burden; and the young folk of to-day will drone out precisely similar nonsense for the aggravation of the next generation. "Oh, give me back the good old days of fifty years ago," has been the cry ever since Adam's fifty-first birthday. Take up the literature of 1835, and you will find the poets and novelists asking for the same impossible gift as did the German Minnesingers long before them and the old Norse Saga writers long before that. And for the same thing sighed the early prophets and the philosophers of ancient Greece. From all accounts, the world has been getting worse and worse ever since it was created. All I can say is that it must have been a remarkably delightful place when it was first opened to the public, for it is very pleasant even now if you only keep as much as possible in the sunshine and take the rain good-temperedly.

No," said Blackwell, "she won't, because that would be a violation of the very personal terms I will have established in our conversation. That's the key word here, Laney, 'personal.' 'Up close, and.' We will not meet, we will not carve out this deep and meaningful and bloody unforgettable episode of mutual face-time as representatives of our respective faceless corporations. Not at all. It's one-on-one time for your Kathy and I, and it may well prove to be as intimate, and I may hope enlightening, as any she ever had. Because I will bring a new certainty into her life, and we all need certainties. They help build character. And I will leave your Kathy with the deepest possible conviction that if she crosses me, she will die-but only after she's been made to desire that, absolutely." And Black-well's smile, then, giving Laney the full benefit of his dental prosthesis, was hideous. "Now how was it exactly you were supposed to contact her, to give her your decision?

Затим променисмо место и сместимо се за картање. Јер, то умемо: да се картамо, да псујемо и да ратујемо. Није много за наших двадесет година - сувише много је за двадесет година.

I wish someone had just told me the truth right up front, as soon as I was old enough to understand it. I wish someone had just said: “Here’s the deal, Wade. You’re something called a ‘human being.’ That’s a really smart kind of animal. Like every other animal on this planet, we’re descended from a single-celled organism that lived millions of years ago. This happened by a process called evolution, and you’ll learn more about it But trust me, that’s really how we all got here. There’s proof of it everywhere, buried in the rocks. That story you heard? About how we were all created by a super-powerful dude named God who lives up in the sky? Total bullshit. The whole God thing is actually an ancient fairy tale that people have been telling one another for thousands of years. We made it all up. Like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. “Oh, and by the way … there’s no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny. Also bullshit. Sorry, kid Deal with it.

A child may ask, “What is the world’s story about?” And a grown man or woman may wonder, “What way will the world go? How does it end and, while we’re at it, what’s the story about?”I believe that there is one story in the world, and only one, that has frightened and inspired us, so that we live in a Pearl White serial of continuing thought and wonder. Humans are caught—in their lives, in their thoughts, in their hungers and ambitions, in their avarice and cruelty, and in their kindness and generosity too—in a net of good and evil. I think this is the only story we have and that it occurs on all levels of feeling and intelligence. Virtue and vice were warp and woof of our first consciousness, and they will be the fabric of our last, and this despite any changes we may impose on field and river and mountain, on economy and manners. There is no other story. A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean questions: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well—or ill?

Niekas negali pasikartoti. Niekas. Vėjas neša smėlį ir supusto barchanus. Jie visi panašūs vienas į kitą, bet vos tik įsižiūri – ir pamatai, kad skirtumų daugiau nei panašumų. Net smiltys nevienodos ir slenka kiekviena savaip. O ką jau kalbėti apie žmones. Kiekviename žmoguje palaidoti tūkstančiai kitų žmonių. Dešimtys tūkstančių. Visi tie, kuriais jis galėjo tapti. Kiekviename iš mūsų palaidotas vagis ir poetas, žmogžudys ir šventasis, jūreivis ir sklandytojas. Mums neskirta nugyventi tūkstančius gyvenimų, mes iš jų visų pasirenkame vieną vienintelį, ir kartais netgi klaidingą. Bet jeigu jau pasirinkom kadaise...negalim užmiršti, kuo tu būtum galėjęs tapti. Reikia nešioti savyje visus savo nenugyventus gyvenimus. Ir staiga pagalvojau, kad mirtis - visai ne tokia baisi, kad kiekvienas iš mūsų jau tūkstančius kartų yra miręs.

Niekas negali pasikartoti. Niekas. Vėjas neša smėlį ir supusto barchanus. Jie visi panašūs vienas į kitą, bet vos tik įsižiūri – ir pamatai, kad skirtumų daugiau nei panašumų. Net smiltys nevienodos ir slenka kiekviena savaip. O ką jau kalbėti apie žmones. Kiekviename žmoguje palaidoti tūkstančiai kitų žmonių. Dešimtys tūkstančių. Visi tie, kuriais jis galėjo tapti. Kiekviename iš mūsų palaidotas vagis ir poetas, žmogžudys ir šventasis, jūreivis ir sklandytojas. Mums neskirta nugyventi tūkstančius gyvenimų, mes iš jų visų pasirenkame vieną vienintelį, ir kartais netgi klaidingą. Bet jeigu jau pasirinkom kadaise...negalim užmiršti, kuo tu būtum galėjęs tapti. Reikia nešioti savyje visus savo nenugyventus gyvenimus. Ir staiga pagalvojau, kad mirtis - visai ne tokia baisi, kad kiekvienas iš mūsų jau tūkstančius kartų yra miręs.

This is unbelievable,” James said. “I mean, you guys are out here planning to build an armored car out of my dad’s old, and I mean old, car. Mom is in the house making cookies like this is just an everyday occurrence. Once this starts, you guys probably won’t live through it, and nobody is acting like it’s a big deal. I don’t know that I’m comfortable with my parents preparing for their funeral.” “Everyone has to die of something, son,” Rick said. James looked stunned. “So you are thinking about that as a possibility? Then why go to all the trouble of putting armor on the car and putting in that big engine?” “Because I have to get back to the starting point, which in this case is the Deal’s Gap,” Rick answered. “And the car won’t make it if I don’t make modifications.” “Once they figure out what you’re doing and where you’re going, they’ll ambush you. You won’t be able to get out of it. They’ll gun you and Mom down in cold blood.” James was trying to hide the emotion from his face.