Quotes

[laika]

how did you come across Malina?

austrian lit phase.
are you a fan?
i had forgotten about it until galia brought up Bachmann.

galia, that's so lovely that you wear it in a locket, i can see why.

[Faust]

I liked Malina, yes. She is fairly unknown in the US - I read it in one of my courses. Haven't read anything else by her.

[crouka]

what stopped inside you yesterday was what people have been telling you the world is like. you see, people tell us from the time we are born that the world is such and such and so and so, and naturally we have no choice but to see the world the way people have been telling us it is.
yesterday the world became as sorcerers tell you it is. in that world coyotes talk and so do deer, as I once told you, and so do rattlesnakes and trees and all other living beings. but what I want you to learn is "seeing". perhaps you know now that seeing happens only when one sneaks between the worlds. the world of ordinary people and the world of sorcerers. you are now smack in the middle point between the two. yesterday you believed the coyote talked to you. any sorcerer who doesn't see would believe the same, but one who sees knows that to believe that is to be pinned down in the realm of sorcerers. by the same token, not to believe that coyotes talk is to be pinned down in the realm of ordinary men................no, in order to see, one must learn to look at the world in some other fashion, and the only other fashion I know is the way of a sorcerer.

we are weird animals. we get carried away and in our madness we believe ourselves to be making perfect sense.



don juan (a yaqui old shaman character)

[interest1]

Re: Quotes

Until we lose ourselves, there is no hope of finding ourselves.
-Henry Miller

[Fade to Black]

An artist whose great theme would be the destiny coded in the seemingly random fragments of our lives was already standing in the doorway to his future, pulling together the fragments of his past, furiously fulfilling the person he already was and imagining the person he would become -- anything so he wouldn't have to go back.

- from John H. Richardson's Esquire profile of P.T. Anderson

[Fade to Black]

it's from here: http://www.esquire.com/features/75-m...-anderson-1008

the quote above ends the piece.

[deius]

The young had been led to believe in values and ideals which were totally unrelated to their real "selves" and went against their very nature. They were led to believe that such a power-based monster was their "New Society" (the hardest and cruelest, in fact.) A bitter inner conflict raged in these young hearts and minds. The lofty moral and aesthetic values implanted in their collective unconscious through a cultural heritage thousands of years old came into conflict with the new power based community, which was imposed on them. The conflict reached its culmination, and frustration was inevitable, when young men and women actually witnessed the collapse of that power-based community while still being taught it was the best and strongest.

Anwar El Sadat (from his 1978 autobiography)

[interest1]

Fashion constantly begins and ends in the two things in abhors most: singularity and vulgarity.

~William Hazlitt (1778-1830)

[Faust]

I dreamed of Freud. What does this mean? - Stanislaw Lec.

[LittleTombo]

"I always thought a punk was someone who took it up the ass"
- William Burroughs

[laika]

Flag...
How much more easily the leave-taker is loved!
For the flame burns more purely for those vanishing in the distance,
fueled by the fleeting scrap of material waving from the
ship or railway window. Separation penetrates the disappearing
person like a pigment and steeps him in gentle radiance.

Walter Benjamin, one way street

[todestrieb]

Nonsense

When the ticking of a watch breaks the silence of eternity, arousing you out of serene contemplation, how can you help resenting the absurdity of time, its march into the future, and all the nonsense about evolution and progress? Why go forward, why live in time? The sudden revelation of time at such moments, conferring upon it a crushing preeminence otherwise nonexistent, is the fruit of a strong contempt for life, an unwillingness to go on. If this revelation happens at night, the sensation of unutterable loneliness is added to the absurdity of time, because then, far from the crowd, you face time alone, the two of you caught in an irreducible duality. Time, in this nocturnal desolation, is no longer populated wih actions and objects: it becomes an evergrowing nothingness, a dilating void, a threat from beyond. Silence resounds then with the mournful clamor of bells knelling for a dead universe. Only he who has separated time from existence lives this drama: fleeing the latter, he is crushed by the former. And he feels how time, like death, gains ground.

-- Emil Cioran

[Faust]

Wealth is an irritant - Norman Manea

[crouka]

en un mot l'expérience d'autrui comme alter ego au milieu même de la discussion. le monde humain est un système ouvert ou inachevé et même la contingence fondamentale qui le menace de discordance le soustrait aussi à la fatalité du désordre et interdit d'en désespérer, à condition seulement qu'on se rappelle que les appareils, ce sont des hommes, et qu'on maintienne et multiplie des rapports d'homme à homme.

merleau-ponty





after music is over, it's gone in the air. you can never capture it again.

-eric dolphy






琥珀の弓張月　息切れすら覚える鼓動
生涯忘れることはないでしょう

- 柳井愛子

[Faust]

The country is proud of its dead poets. It takes terrific satisfaction in the poets' testimony that the USA is too tough, too big, too much, too rugged, that American reality is overpowering. And to be a poet is a school thing, a skirt thing, a church thing. The weakness of the spiritual powers is proved in the childishness, madness, drunkenness, and despair of these martyrs. Orpheus moved stones and trees. But a poet can't perform a hysterectomy or send a vehicle out of the solar system. Miracle and power no longer belong to him. So poets are loved, but loved because they just can't make it here. They exist to light up the enormity of the awful tangle and justify the cynicism of those who say, "If I were not such a corrupt, unfeeling bastard, creep, thief, and vulture, I couldn't get through this either. Look at these good and tender and soft men, the best of us. They succumbed, poor loonies."

Saul Bellow, Humboldt's Gift