Hopscotch Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Hopscotch. Here they are! All 199 of them:

Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are.
Lois McMaster Bujold (Labyrinth (Vorkosigan Saga, #5.2))
me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sostiene de un solo lado...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
She would smile and show no surprise, convinced as she was, the same as I, that casual meetings are apt to be just the opposite, and that people who make dates are the same kind who need lines on their writing paper, or who always squeeze up from the bottom on a tube of toothpaste.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Si te caes te levanto y sino me acuesto contigo
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Probablemente de todos nuestros sentimientos el único que no es verdaderamente nuestro es la esperanza. La esperanza le pertenece a la vida, es la vida misma defendiéndose.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Hay ausencias que representan un verdadero triunfo
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
The idea of my future simultaneously thrilled and terrified me, like standing at the lip of a very sheer cliff- I could fly, or fall. I didn't know how to fly, and I didn't want to fall. So I backed away from the cliff and went in search of something that had a clear, solid trajectory for me to follow, like hopscotch.
Marya Hornbacher (Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)
But what is memory if not the language of feeling, a dictionary of faces and days and smells which repeat themselves like the verbs and adjectives in a speech, sneaking in behind the thing itself,into the pure present, making us sad or teaching us vicariously...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
...nos queríamos en una dialéctica de imán y limadura, de ataque y defensa, de pelota y pared.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Cómo podía yo sospechar que aquello que parecía tan mentira era verdadero...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Buscás eso que llamas la armonía, pero la buscás justo ahí donde acabás de decir que no está, entre los amigos, la familia, en la ciudad...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Happy was she who could believe without seeing, who was at one with the duration and continuity of life.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
I love you because you are not mine, because you are from the other side, from there where you invite me to jump and I cannot make the jump, because in the deepest moment of possession you are not in me, I cannot reach you, I cannot get beyond your body...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Y mirá que apenas nos conocíamos y ya la vida urdía lo necesario para desencontrarnos minuciosamente.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Pobre amor el que de pensamiento se alimenta.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Demasiado tarde, siempre, porque aunque hiciéramos tantas veces el amor la felicidad tenía que ser otra cosa, algo quizá más triste que esta paz y este placer, un aire como de unicornio o isla, una caída interminable en la inmovilidad
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. (...) You don't pick out the rain that soaks you to the skin when you come out of a concert.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Of all our feelings the only one which really doesn't belong to us is hope. Hope belongs to life, it's life itself defending itself. Etcetera.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Vos no elegís la lluvia que te va a calar hasta los huesos cuando salís de un concierto.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
We went around without looking for each other, but knowing we went around to find each other.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Sintió una especie de ternura rencorosa, algo tan contradictorio que debía ser la verdad misma.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Hay ríos metafísicos, ella los nada como esa golondrina está nadando en el aire, girando alucinada en torno al campanario, dejándose caer para levantarse mejor con el impulso. Yo describo y defino y deseo esos ríos, ella los nada. Yo los busco, los encuentro, los miro desde el puente, ella los nada.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No es que haya que vivir, puesto que la vida nos es fatalmente dada... la vida se vive a sí misma, nos guste o no.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No puede ser que estemos aquí para no poder ser.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
—Usted escribe, supongo. —No —dijo Oliveira—. Qué voy a escribir, para eso hay que tener alguna certidumbre de haber vivido.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Before going back to sleep I imagined (I saw) a plastic universe, changeable, full of wondrous chance, an elastic sky, a sun that suddenly is missing or remains fixed or changes its shape.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No estábamos enamorados, hacíamos el amor con un virtuosismo desapegado y crítico, pero después caíamos en silecios terribles y la espuma de los vasos de cerveza se iba poniendo como estopa, se entibiaba y contraía mientras nos mirábamos y sentíamos que eso era el tiempo...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Y lo que llamamos amarnos fue quizá que yo estaba de pie, delante de vos, con una flor amarilla en la mano, y vos sostenías dos velas verdes, y el tiempo soplaba contra nuestras caras una lenta lluvia de renuncias y despedidas y tickets de metro.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
At an age when most children are playing hopscotch or with their dolls,you, poor child, who had no friends or toys, you toyed with dreams of murder, because that is a game to play alone.
Jean-Paul Sartre (No Exit and Three Other Plays)
Del sí al no, ¿cuántos quizá?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Había tanto tiempo perdido en vos, eras de tal manera el molde de lo que hubieras podido ser.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Y debo decir que confío plenamente en la casualidad de haberte conocido. Que nunca intentaré olvidarte, y que si lo hiciera, no lo conseguiría.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Había tanta niebla en tu corazón desconcertado.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
...nada está perdido si se tiene por fin el valor de proclamar que todo está perdido y que hay que empezar de nuevo...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La gente se cree amiga porque coincide algunas horas por semana en un sofá, una película, a veces una cama, o porque le toca hacer el mismo trabajo en la oficina.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Oh mi amor, te extraño, me dolés en la piel, en la garganta, cada vez que respiro es como si el vacío me entrara en el pecho donde ya no estás
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
When You Have Forgotten Sunday: The Love Story -- And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday, And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday -- When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed, Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon Looking off down the long street To nowhere, Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why? And if-Monday-never-had-to-come— When you have forgotten that, I say, And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell, And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang; And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner, That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles Or chicken and rice And salad and rye bread and tea And chocolate chip cookies -- I say, when you have forgotten that, When you have forgotten my little presentiment That the war would be over before they got to you; And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed, And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end Bright bedclothes, Then gently folded into each other— When you have, I say, forgotten all that, Then you may tell, Then I may believe You have forgotten me well.
Gwendolyn Brooks (The Essential Gwendolyn Brooks)
No estábamos enamorados, hacíamos el amor con un virutosísimo desapego y crítico, pero después caíamos en silencios terribles...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
It’s impossible to want what I want and in the shape I want it, and share life with others besides. I had to know how to be alone and how to let so much wanting do its work, save me or destroy me…
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Siempre quejándote de todo y a la vez fingiendo no darle importancia a nada. Vives de esperanzas pero no sabes ni qué esperas.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
What good is a writer if he can’t destroy literature? And us ... what good are we if we don’t help as much as we can in that destruction?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
I smile because there are tiny dreams that play hopscotch at the corners of my mouth, and every time I breathe they float and every time I laugh they fly kites.
Shane L. Koyczan
La Maga did not know that my kisses were like eyes which began to open up beyond her, and that I went along outside as if I saw a different concept of the world, the dizzy pilot of a black prow which cut the water of time and negated it.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
You're like a witness. You're the one who goes to the museum and looks at the paintings. I mean the paintings are there and you're in the museum too, near and far away at the same time. I'm a painting. Rocamadour is a painting. Etienne is a painting, this room is a painting. You think that you're in the room but you're not. You're looking at the room, you're not in the room.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
The dark moppets of dread played their paranoid hopscotch across Moist's inner eyeballs.
Terry Pratchett (Making Money (Discworld, #36; Moist Von Lipwig, #2))
La rayuela se juega con una piedrita que hay que empujar con la punta del zapato. Ingredientes: una acera, una piedrita, un zapato, y un bello dibujo con tiza, preferentemente de colores. En lo alto está el Cielo, abajo está la Tierra, es muy difícil llegar con la piedrita al Cielo, casi siempre se calcula mal y la piedra sale del dibujo. Poco a poco, sin embargo, se va adquiriendo la habilidad necesaria para salvar las diferentes casillas (rayuela caracol, rayuela rectangular, rayuela de fantasía, poco usada) y un día se aprende a salir de la Tierra y remontar la piedrita hasta el Cielo, hasta entrar en el Cielo, (Et tous nos amours, sollozó Emmanuèle boca abajo), lo malo es que justamente a esa altura, cuando casi nadie ha aprendido a remontar la piedrita hasta el Cielo, se acaba de golpe la infancia y se cae en las novelas, en la angustia al divino cohete, en la especulación de otro Cielo al que también hay que aprender a llegar. Y porque se ha salido de la infancia (Je n'oublierai pas le temps des cérises, pataleó Emmanuèle en el suelo) se olvida que para llegar al Cielo se necesitan, como ingredientes, una piedrita y la punta de un zapato.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Happy are those who choose, those who accept being chosen, the handsome heroes, the handsome saints, the perfect escapists.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Déjame entrar, déjame ver algún día como ven tus ojos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
un mate es como un punto y aparte. Uno lo toma y después se puede empezar un nuevo párrafo.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Total parcial: te quiero. Total general: te amo
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte, te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitás a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa,
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Explanation is a well-dressed error.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Como no sabías disimular me di cuenta en seguida de que para verte como yo quería era necesario empezar por cerrar los ojos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Thus they went along, Punch and Judy, attracting each other and repelling, as love must do if it is not to end up as calendar art or a pop tune.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
¿Por qué no aceptar lo que estaba ocurriendo sin pretender explicarlo, sin sentar las nociones del orden y de desorden?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Mi diagnóstico es sencillo: sé que no tengo remedio
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La risa ella sola ha cavado más túneles útiles que todas las lágrimas de la tierra.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Bruno opened his eyes in wonder at the things he saw. In his imagination he had tough that all the huts were full of happy families, some of whom sat outside on rocking chairs in the evening and told stories about how things were so much better when they were children and they'd had nowadays. He thought that all the boys and girls who lived there would be in different groups, playing tennis or football, skipping and drawing out squares for hopscotch on the ground. As it turned out, all the things he thought might be there-wern't.'' -The boy in the striped Pajamas
John Boyne (The Boy in the Striped Pajamas)
In his imagination he had thought that all the huts were full of happy families, some of whom sat outside on rocking chairs in the evening and told stories about how things were so much better when they were children and they'd had respect for their elders, not like the children nowadays. He thought that all the boys and girls who lived here would be in different groups, playing tennis or football, skipping and drawing out squares for hopscotch on the ground. He had thought that there would be a shop in the centre, and maybe a small café like the ones he had known in Berlin; he had wondered whether there would be a fruit and vegetable stalls. As it turned out, all the things that he thought might be there - weren't.
John Boyne (The Boy in the Striped Pajamas)
Anda a saber, yo creo que ni vos ni yo tenemos demasiado la culpa. No somos adultos
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
El recuerdo es el idioma de los sentimientos
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Being alive always seems to be the price of something.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Soy yo, soy él. Somos, pero soy yo, primeramente soy yo, defenderé ser yo hasta que no pueda más.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Rope-skipping, hopscotch. That old woman in black who sat down next to me on my bench, on my rack of joy (a nymphet was groping under me for a lost marble), and asked if I had stomachache, the insolent hag. Ah, leave me alone in my pubescent park, in my mossy garden. Let them play around me forever. Never grow up.
Vladimir Nabokov (Lolita)
During his reading hours, which were between one and five o'clock in the morning, but not every morning, he had come to the disconcerting conclusion that whistling was not an important theme in literature.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La razón sólo nos sirve para disecar la realidad en calma, o analizar sus futuras tormentas, nunca para resolver una crisis momentánea
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Apenas nos conocíamos y ya la vida urdía lo necesario para desencontrarnos minuciosamente.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
you have to live by fighting each other, it's the law, the only way that things are worth while but it hurts
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Esto es la realidad. Esto que acepto a cada momento como la realidad y que no puede ser, no puede ser.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La gente que se da citas precisas es la misma que necesita papel rayado para escribirse o que aprieta desde abajo el tubo del dentífrico
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No tenía ninguna fe de que ocurriera lo que deseaba, y sabía que sin fe no ocurriría. Sabía que sin fe no ocurre nada de lo que debería ocurrir, y con fe casi siempre tampoco.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Allí donde esté tiene pelo ardiendo como una torre y me quema desde lejos , me hace pedazos nada más que con su ausencia.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Of all our feelings the only one which really doesn't belong to us is hope. Hope belongs to life, it's life itself defending itself.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Pero el amor, esa palabra...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La verdad es que no quiero entender nada, si por entender hay que aceptar eso que llamábamos la equivocación.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
I guess when you'd lived as long, and pondered as much, as Old Tom had...a game of hopscotch could be more profound than village politics or gossip.
Linda Medley (Castle Waiting, Vol. 2 (Castle Waiting Omnibus Collection #2))
She stole a glance at Bobby, who was looking down at a hopscotch grid drawn on the sidewalk. He was so cute, and he didn’t even know it. Somehow that was the cutest thing of all. •   •   •
Stephen King (Hearts in Atlantis)
Living is something most of us postpone, isn't it? We sell the present for a chance at a future where we may do our living when we're old and we've lost the talent for it.
Brian Garfield (Hopscotch)
And it is also the only reward for my work: to feel what I have written is like the back of a cat as it is being petted, with sparks and an arching in cadence. (page 402)
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Te prometo una cosa: acordarme de vos a ultimo momento parque sea todavía mas amargo.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Antes de caer en la nada con el último diástole
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No era en la cabeza donde tenia el centro
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
One begins to go about with the sluggish step of a philosopher or a clochard, as more and more vital gestures become reduced to mere instincts of preservation, to a conscience more alert not to be deceived than to grasp truth.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
in Just- spring          when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles          far          and wee and eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful the queer old balloonman whistles far          and          wee and bettyandisbel come dancing from hop-scotch and jump-rope and it's spring and           the                     goat-footed balloonMan          whistles far and wee
E.E. Cummings (Tulips & Chimneys)
Felices los que eligen, los que aceptan ser elegidos, los hermosos héroes, los hermosos santos, los escapistas perfectos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Nadie se aguanta aquí mucho tiempo, ni siquiera tú y yo, hay que vivir combatiéndose, esa es la ley, la única manera que vale la pena pero duele
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
HOPSCOTCH.
Kennedy Ryan (Long Shot (Hoops, #1))
Nuestra verdad posible tiene que ser invención, es decir escritura, literatura, pintura, escultura, agricultura, piscicultura, todas las turas de este mundo. Los valores, turas, la santidad, una tura, la sociedad, una tura, el amor, pura tura, la belleza, tura de turas.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No estábamos enamorados, hacíamos el amor con un virtuosismo desapegado y crítico, pero después caíamos en silencios terribles y la espuma de los vasos de cerveza se iba poniendo como estopa, se entibiaba y contraía mientras nos mirábamos y sentíamos que eso era el tiempo.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Entonces mis manos buscan hundirse en tu pelo, acariciar lentamente la profundidad de tu pelo mientras nos besamos como si tuviéramos la boca llena de flores o de peces, de movimientos vivos, de fragancia oscura. Y si nos mordemos el dolor es dulce, y si nos ahogamos en un breve y terrible absorber simultáneo del aliento, esa instantánea muerte es bella. Y hay una sola saliva y un solo sabor a fruta madura, y yo te siento temblar contra mí como una luna en el agua.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Why couldn't I accept what was happening without trying to explain it, without bringing up ideas of order and disorder, of freedom, as one sets out geranium pots in a courtyard on the Calle Cochabamba? Maybe on had to fall into the depths of stupidity in order to make the key fit the lock to the latrine or to the Garden of Olives.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Lo que mucha gente llama amar consiste en elegir a una mujer y casarse con ella. La eligen, te lo juro, los he visto. Como si se pudiese elegir en el amor, como si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estaqueado en la mitad del patio
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte, te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitás a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa, hay horas en que me atormenta que me ames (cómo te gusta usar el verbo amar, con qué cursilería lo vas dejando caer sobre los platos y las sábanas y los autobuses), me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sostiene de un solo lado, jamás Wright ni Le Corbusier van a hacer un puente sostenido de un solo lado, y no me mires con esos ojos de pájaro, para vos la operación del amor es tan sencilla, te curarás antes que yo y eso que me querés como yo no te quiero.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
That's how it is, Rocamadour: in Paris we're like fungus, we grow on the railings of staircases, in dark rooms with greasy smells, where people make love all the time and then fry some eggs and put on Vivaldi records, light cigarettes... and outside there are all sorts of things, the windows open onto the air and it all begins with a sparrow or a gutter, it rains a lot here, rocamadour, much more than in the country, and things get rusty... we don't have many clothes, we get along with so few, a good overcoat, some shoes to keep the rain out, we're very dirty, everybody is dirty and good-looking in Paris, Rocamadour, the beds smell of night and deep sleep, dust and books underneath.
Julio Cortázar
Back the, my life was mostly pieces-tire swings and lemonade, dogwood petals drifting down and going brown in the grass. Cotton dresses, bedsheets flapping on the line. An acre of front porch. A year of hopscotch rhymes.
Brenna Yovanoff (Fiendish)
Bennie's corner of Brooklyn looked different every time Sierra passed through it. She stopped at the corner of Washington Avenue and St. John's Place to take in the changing scenery. A half block from where she stood, she'd skinned her knee playing hopscotch while juiced up on iceys and sugar drinks. Bennie's brother, Vincent, had been killed by the cops on the adjacent corner, just a few steps from his own front door. Now her best friend's neighborhood felt like another planet. The place Sierra and Bennie used to get their hair done had turned into a fancy bakery of some kind, and yes, the coffee was good, but you couldn't get a cup for less than three dollars. Plus, every time Sierra went in, the hip, young white kid behind the counter gave her either the don't-cause-no-trouble look or the I-want-to-adopt-you look. The Takeover (as Bennie had dubbed it once) had been going on for a few years now, but tonight its pace seemed to have accelerated tenfold. Sierra couldn't find a single brown face on the block. It looked like a late-night frat party had just let out; she was getting funny stares from all sides--as if she was the out-of-place one, she thought. And then, sadly, she realized she was the out-of-place one.
Daniel José Older (Shadowshaper (Shadowshaper, #1))
Consiguió dejar de pensar, consiguió por un instante besarla sin ser más que su propio beso.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
El mundo ya no importa si uno no tiene fuerzas para seguir eligiendo algo verdadero
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
También hay ríos metafísicos, Horacio. Vos te vas a tirar a uno de esos ríos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
The singing wasn't the hopscotch-jumprope-happy kind. This was the kind of singing that, if you tracked it to its source, you might find a little girl in a moldy old burial dress, her skin pitted & green, with lots of coffin splinters & dirt between her teeth... ...like a mermaid luring idiot sailors...Winny wasn't a sailor, & he wasn't old enough to get all sexed up by some hot siren.
Dean Koontz (77 Shadow Street (Pendleton, #1))
They left a trail of hopscotch behind them, Mellie always thinking of ways to make it harder. They'd be jumping along in the dust, barefoot, with licorice drops in their mouths, feeling as though they had run off with everything in that town that was worth having.
Marilynne Robinson (Lila)
A hand of smoke took his hand, started him downward, if it was downward, showed him a centre, if it was a centre, put it in his stomach, where the vodka was softly making crystal bubbles, some sort of infinitely beautiful and desperate illusion which some time back he had called immortality.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
En cambio te quedás (...) dándole vueltas a los falsos problemas, esperando no se qué. Si todo esto es absurdo hay que hacer algo para cambiarlo.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Sabía que sin fe no ocurre nada de lo que debería ocurrir, y con fe casi siempre tampoco.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La falta de experiencia es inevitable, si leo a Joyce estoy sacrificando automáticamente otro libro y viceversa, etc.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Sólo en sueños, en la poesía, en el juego nos asomamos a veces a lo que fuimos antes de ser esto que vaya a saber si somos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Qué complicado. Vos sos como un testigo, sos el que va al museo y mira los cuadros. Quiero decir que los cuadros están ahí y vos en el museo, cerca y lejos al mismo tiempo.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Silhouettes of Trees Under the full moon, silhouettes of trees hopscotch on the street, a trysting place where ghosts and my dark dreams like to meet.
Beryl Dov
To swallow a bitter pill, a child is made to play hopscotch for a horehound,” Dr. Praxton had said.
Dew Platt (The Dementor's Scheme)
Sо they had begun to walk about in a fabulous Paris, letting themselves be guided by the nighttime signs, following routes born of a clochard phrase, of an attic lit up in the darkness of a street's end, stopping in little confidential squares to kiss on the benches or look at the hopscotch game, those childish rites of a pebble and a hop on one leg to get into Heaven, Home.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Oh Maga, en cada mujer parecida a vos se agolpaba como un silencio ensordecedor, una pausa filosa y cristalina que acababa por derrumbarse tristemente, como un paraguas mojado que se cierra.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Ahora la Maga no estaba en mi camino, y aunque conocíamos nuestros domicilios, cada hueco de nuestras dos habitaciones de falsos estudiantes en París, cada tarjeta postal abriendo una ventanita Branque o Ghirlandaio o Max Ernst contra las molduras baratas y los papeles chillones, aun así no nos buscaríamos en nuestras casas. Preferíamos encontrarnos en el puente, en la terraza de un café, en un cine-club agachados junto a un gato en cualquier patio del barrio latino. Andábamos sin buscarnos pero sabiendo que andábamos para encontrarnos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
When, after a week, Jubal had had no other message, he sent a stat care of Ben's office: "What the hell are you doing?" Ben's answer came back, somewhat delayed: "Studying Martian and the rules for hopscotch -- fraternally yours -- Ben.
Robert A. Heinlein (Stranger in a Strange Land)
Вече не мога да говоря с теб за тези неща, с други думи, всичко свърши и аз се шляя наоколо, обикалям, търся посоката, севера, юга, ако изобщо ги търся. Ако изобщо ги търся. Ако обаче не ги търся, тогава какво правя? О, любов моя, липсваш ми, болиш ме по кожата, в гърлото, при всяко вдишване, като че ли празнотата навлиза в гърдите ми, където теб вече те няма.
Хулио Кортасар (Hopscotch)
Harlem Hopscotch One foot down, then hop! It's hot. Good things for the ones that's got. Another jump, now to the left. Everybody for hisself. In the air, now both feet down. Since you black, don't stick around. Food is gone, the rent is due, Curse and cry and then jump two. All the people out of work, Hold for three, then twist and jerk. Cross the line, they count you out. That's what hopping's all about. Both feet flat, the game is done. They think I lost. I think I won.
Maya Angelou
Profs who go to Knossos to look for books on Phobos or Kronos go on to jot down monophthongs (kof or rho) from two monoglot scrolls on Thoth, old god of Copts - both scrolls torn from hornbooks, now grown brown from mold. Profs who gloss works of Woolf, Gogol, Frost or Corot look for books from Knopf: Oroonoko or Nostromo - not Hopscotch (nor Tlooth). Profs who do schoolwork on Pollock look for photobooks on Orozco or Rothko (two tomfools who throw bold colors, blotch on blotch, onto tondos of dropcloth).
Christian Bök (Eunoia)
Lo había dicho sin pensarlo, es decir que estaba más que pensado, venía de un territorio donde las palabras eran como los locos en la clínica, entes amenazadores o absurdos viviendo una vida propia y aislada, saltando de golpe sin que nada pudiera atajarlos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Hopscotch is played with a pebble that you move with the tip of your toe. The things you need: a sidewalk, a pebble, a toe, and a pretty chalk drawing, preferably in colors. On top is Heaven, on the bottom is Earth, it’s very hard to get the pebble up to Heaven, you almost always miscalculate and the stone goes off the drawing. But little by little you start to get the knack of how to jump over the different squares (spiral hopscotch, rectangular hopscotch, fantasy hopscotch, not played very often) and then one day you learn how to leave Earth and make the pebble climb up into Heaven
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Every time it starts to get cool, I mean in the middle of autim, I start gettin nutty ideas like I was thinkin about what was forein and diffrent, like for exsample how I'd like to turn into a swallow and get away and fly to countrys where it gets hot, or be an ant so's I could get deep into a cave and eat the stuff I stored away durin the summer or be a snake like what they got in the zoO, the ones they keep lockt up in glass cages thats heated so's they don't get stiff from the cold, which is what happens to poor human beans who cant buy no close cause the price is to high, and cant keep warm cause theys no keroseen, no coal, no wood, no fule oil and besides theys no loot, cause when you go around with bocoo bread you can go into any bar and get some sneaky pete that can be real warmin, even tho it aint good to overdo it cause if you overdos it it gets to be a bad habbit and bad habbits is bad for your body just like they is for youre selfrespeck, and when you start goin downhill cause your actin bad in everythin, they aint nobody or nothin can stop you from endin up a stinkin piece of human garbidge and they never gone give you a hand to haul you up outen the dirty muck you rollin around in, not even if you was a eaglE when you was young and could fly up and over the highest hills, but when you get old you like a highflyin bomber thats lost its moral engines and fall down outen the sky. I jes hope what I been writin down hear do somebody some good so he take a good look at how he livin and he dont be sorry when it too late and everythin is gone down the drain cause it his own fault. -- Caser Bruto, What I Would Like to Be If I Wasn't What I Am (Chapter: "A St. Bernard Dog")
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
A Oliveira le gustaba hacer el amor con la Maga porque nada podía ser más importante para ella y al mismo tiempo, de una manera difícilmente comprensible, estaba como por debajo de su placer, se alcanzaba en él un momento y por eso se adhería desesperadamente y lo prolongaba, era como un despertarse y conocer su verdadero nombre, y después recaía en una zona siempre un poco crepuscular que encantaba a Oliveira temeroso de perfecciones, pero que la Maga sufría de verdad cuando regresaba a sus recuerdos y a todo lo que oscuramente necesitaba pensar y no podía pensar, entonces había que besarla profundamente, incitarla a nuevos juegos, y la otra, la reconciliada, crecía debajo de él y lo arrebataba, se daba entonces como una bestia frenética, los ojos perdidos y las manos torcidas hacia adentro, mítica y atroz como una estatua rodando por una montaña, arrancando el tiempo con las uñas.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
I used to hate boys... I grew up... Things changed. Now I hate men.
Israel Horovitz (Hopscotch & The 75th)
—Las amputaciones violentas son malas, después te duele el muñón toda la vida.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Mas tudo num plano me-ta-fí-sico. Já que Horácio, as palavras... Quer dizer que as palavras, para Horácio... (uma questão já muito remoída em vários momentos de insônia).
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Oriunde s-ar afla, pletele-i inflacarate ca un turn ma ard din departare, ma distruge cu absenta ei.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Y mira que apenas nos conocíamos y ya la vida urdía lo necesario para desencontrarnos minuciosamente.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
hay que vivir combatiéndose, es la ley, la única manera que vale la pena pero duele
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Cómo se repiten los juegos. Calzamos en moldes más que usados, aprendemos como idiotas cada papel más que sabido.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Umblam fara sa ne cautam, dar stiind ca umblam ca sa ne gasim.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
- Lo que pasa – dijo la Maga, revolviendo la leche sobre el calentador – es que la felicidad es solamente de uno y en cambio la desgracia pareciera de todos.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
pero la Maga sufría de verdad cuando regresaba a sus recuerdos y a todo lo que oscuramente necesitaba pensar y no podía pensar, entonces había que besarla profundamente,
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
En París todo le era Buenos Aires y viceversa; en lo más ahincado del amor padecía y acataba la pérdida y el olvido.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
En fin, vamos a ver: tu vida, ¿es una unidad para vos? —No, no creo. Son pedazos, cosas que me fueron pasando.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
el tacto que reemplaza las definiciones, el instinto que va más allá de la inteligencia. La vía mágica, la noche oscura del alma.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
¿Por qué hemos tenido que inventar el Edén, vivir sumidos en la nostalgia del paraíso perdido, fabricar utopías, proponernos un futuro?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
and jazz is like a bird who migrates or emigrates or immigrates or transmigrates, roadblock jumper, smuggler, something that runs and mixes in
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Hago cosas que me quitan un poco el mal gusto del vacío. Y esa en el fondo es la mejor definición de homo sapiens." No es una definición sino un consuelo, dijo Gregorovius suspirando
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
The city continued on its way. Boys tried to sell me drumsticks, girls played hopscotch, the Bihari badly worker carried his gathri of ironed clothes to the homes from which they had come, and the buses honked at suicidal cyclists. At one level this was vaguely confusing. Surely, something should acknowledge how much things had changed? At another level, it was oddly comforting.
Jerry Pinto (Em and The Big Hoom)
Haber creido ver a la maga era menos amargo que la certidumbre de que un deseo incontrolable la había arrancado del fondo de eso que definian como subconsciencia y proyectado contra la silueta.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
—Nunca nos quisimos —le dijo besándola en el pelo. —No hablés por mí —dijo la Maga cerrando los ojos—. Vos no podés saber si yo te quiero o no. Ni siquiera eso podés saber. —¿ Tan ciego me creés?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Αγγίζω το στόμα σου, με το δάχτυλό μου αγγίζω το περίγραμμα του στόματός σου, το σχεδιάζω σαν να το δημιουργεί το χέρι μου, σαν το στόμα σου να μισανοίγει για πρώτη φορά και αρκεί να κλείσω τα μάτια μου για να το σβήσω και να ξαναρχίσω να το φτιάχνω, και κάθε φορά κάνω να γεννιέται το στόμα που ποθώ, το στόμα που επιλέγει το χέρι μου και σχεδιάζει πάνω στο πρόσωπό σου, ένα στόμα επιλεγμένο ανάμεσα σε τόσα άλλα, επιλεγμένο με ηγεμονική ελευθερία από μένα για να το ζωγραφίσει το χέρι μου πάνω στο πρόσωπό σου και που από ένα γύρισμα της τύχης που δεν προσπαθώ να καταλάβω συμπίπτει ακριβώς με το στόμα σου που χαμογελάει κάτω από εκείνο που σχεδιάζει το χέρι μου. Με κοιτάς, με κοιτάς από κοντά, κάθε φορά και από πιο κοντά και τότε παίζουμε τον κύκλωπα, κοιταζόμαστε όλο και από πιο κοντά και τα μάτια μεγαλώνουν, πλησιάζουν το ένα το άλλο, κολλάνε το ένα στο άλλο και οι κύκλωπες κοιτιούνται, οι ανάσες τους μπλέκουν, τα στόματα συναντιούνται και παλεύουν ανόρεχτα, δαγκώνονται χείλια με χείλια, ακουμπώντας μόλις τη γλώσσα πάνω στα δόντια, παίζουν μέσα στον περίβολό τους όπου πηγαινοέρχεται ένας βαρύς αέρας με ένα παλιό άρωμα και μια σιωπή. Τότε τα χέρια μου θέλουν να βυθιστούν στα μαλλιά σου, να χαϊδέψουν αργά τα βάθη των μαλλιών σου ενώ φιλιόμαστε σαν το στόμα μας να είναι γεμάτο λουλούδια ή ψάρια, ζωηρές κινήσεις, σκοτεινή ευωδιά. Και όταν δαγκωνόμαστε ο πόνος είναι γλυκός κι όταν πνιγόμαστε μʼ ένα σύντομο και τρομερό ταυτόχρονο ρούφηγμα της αναπνοής, αυτός ο στιγμιαίος θάνατος είναι όμορφος. Και υπάρχει ένα και μόνο σάλιο, μια και μόνη γεύση από ώριμο φρούτο κι εγώ σε νιώθω νʼ ανατριχιάζεις απάνω μου όπως η σελήνη στο νερό.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No soy ya el que conocisteis, oh mujeres. Histrio. Mimo. Noche de empusas, lamias, mala sombra, final del gran juego. Cómo cansa ser todo el tiempo uno mismo. Irremisiblemente. No las veré nunca más, está escrito.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La técnica consistía en citarse vagamente en un barrio a cierta hora. Les gustaba desafiar el peligro de no encontrarse, de pasar el día solos, enfurruñados en un café o en un banco de plaza, leyendo-un-libro-más.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Es un poco así: hay líneas de aire a los lados de tu cabeza, de tu mirada, zonas de detención de tus ojos, tu olfato tu gusto, es decir que andás con tu límite por fuera y más allá de ese límite no podés llegar cuando creés que has aprehendido plenamente cualquier cosa, la cosa lo mismo que un iceberg tiene un pedacito por fuera y te lo muestra, y el resto enorme está más allá de tu límite y así es como se hundió el Titanic.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Pero detrás de toda acción había siempre una protesta, porque todo hacer significaba salir de para llegar a, o mover algo para que estuviera aquí y no allí, o entrar en esa casa en vez de no entrar o no entrar a la de al lado, es decir que en todo acto había la admisión de una carencia, de algo no hecho todavía y que era posible hacer, la protesta tácita frente a la continua evidencia de la falta, de la merma, de la parvedad del presente
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
...Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte, te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitás a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa, hay horas en que me atormenta que me ames (cómo te gusta usar el verbo amar, con qué cursilería lo vas dejando caer sobre los platos y las sábanas y los autobuses), me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sostiene de un solo lado, jamás Wright ni Le Corbusier van a hacer un puente sostenido de un solo lado, y no me mires con esos ojos de pájaro, para vos la operación del amor es tan sencilla, te curarás antes que yo y eso que me querés como yo no te quiero. Claro que te curarás, porque vivís en la salud, después de mí será cualquier otro, eso se cambia como los corpiños...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Sometimes the one who dreams about Fairies mingles with the soul of the house. The thought of the hedges outside the door has stopped the ticking of the clock, and from the cellar the song of hidden woods can be heard. From deep down in the well he awakens the fibers of the beams, casts a spell on the floor boards and penetrates deep into the tapestry. He sits down in the child’s room where the garden of things tells a story about the theater of shadows. His thoughts are infused in a kettle and illustrated in a spiral of steam. The armchair flies out of the window and the curtains begin to flower. He can be heard climbing the stairs, leaving behind handfuls of visiting cards, and on each one of them is the address of a star. In the attic, his step is reduced to the dance of mice. A wreath of sparks brightens up the fireplace. The dormer window looks out onto the hopscotch of the skies… The dreamer’s soul is now so brilliant and light that it is like a spangle in a parade of Fairies
Pierre Dubois (The Great Encyclopedia of Faeries)
Да излезе, да направи, да приведе в ред не бяха неща, които помагат на човек да заспи. Да приведе в ред, какъв израз. Да направи. Да направи нещо, да направи добро, да направи пиш, да направи така, че да мине времето - действието във всичките му разновидности. Но зад всяко действие има протест, защото всяко действие означава да се излезе от, за да се стигне до, или да се премести нещо, за да бъде то тук, а не там, или да се влезе в онази къща, вместо да не се влиза, или пък да се влезе в другата до нея, тоест във всяко действие има приемане на някаква липса, на нещо, което все още не е направено, но може да бъде направено, мълчалив протест срещу непрестанната очевидност на липсата, на непълнотата, на недостатъчността на настоящето. Да вярваш, че действието може да даде пълнота или че сборът от действия наистина може да е равнозначен на един живот, достоен за това име, бе илюзия на моралист. По-добре беше да се откажеш, защото отказът от действие беше самият протест, а не неговата маска.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Esas cosas no suceden de golpe, Pola fue viniendo como el sol en la ventana, yo siempre tengo que pensar en cosas así para saber que estoy diciendo la verdad. Entraba de a poco, quitándome la sombra, y Horacio se iba quemando como en la cubierta del barco, se tostaba, era tan feliz.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
When I joined the regiment my comrades said to me, there is one beast we fear more than the foe. An army marches on its stomach, so ’tis plain to see, that fool we call the cook has got to go!   O the cook! O the cook! If words could kill, or just a dirty look, he’d have snuffed it long ago, turned his paws up doncha know, he’d be gladly written off the record book!   What a greasy fat old toad, that assassin of the road, we tried to hire him to the enemy. But they smelt the stew he made, mercy on us they all prayed, we’ll surrender, you can have him back for free!   O the cook! O the cook! He could poison a battalion with his chuck. I’ve seen him boilin’ cabbage, an’ the filthy little savage, takes a bath in it to wash off all the muck!   He made a batch of scones, big grey lumpy solid ones, the Sergeant lost four teeth at just one bite. Then an officer ordered me, sling them at the enemy, an’ those that we don’t slay we’ll put to flight!   O the cook! O the cook! He’s stirring porridge with his rusty hook. Playin’ hopscotch with the toast, he’s the one that we hate most, tonight we’re goin’ to roast that bloomin’ cook!”   A
Brian Jacques (Rakkety Tam (Redwall, #17))
Докосвам устата ти, с пръст докосвам ръба на устата ти, рисувам я, като че ли излиза изпод ръката ми, като че ли за първи път устата ти се отваря леко, достатъчно е да затворя очи, за да разваля всичко и да започна отново, всеки път правя така, че да се роди устата, която желая, устата, която ръката ми избира и рисува върху лицето ти, една уста, избрана измежду всички, съвършено свободно избрана от мен, за да я нарисувам с моята ръка върху твоето лице и която по някаква случайност - не се опитвам да я проумея - съвпада точно с твоята уста, усмихваща се изпод ръката ми, която те рисува. Гледаш ме, гледаш ме отблизо, все по-отблизо и тогава играем на циклопи, гледаме се все по-отблизо и очите стават все по-големи, доближават се едно до друго, наслагват се едно върху друго и циклопите се гледат, дишат объркани, устите се срещат и сборичкват лекичко, хапят се с устни, едва опрели език в зъбите, играят в своите селения, откъдето влиза и излиза тежък въздух - древен мирис, тишина. Тогава ръцете ми се устремяват да проникнат в косите ти, галят бавно дълбините на косите ти, докато се целуваме, устите ни сякаш са пълни с цветя или риби, с живи движения, с тъмен аромат. И ако се захапем, болката е сладка, и ако се задушим в едно кратко и едновременно изпиване на дъха, тази мигновена смърт е красива. И има една-единствена слюнка и един-единствен вкус на зрял плод, и аз те усещам да потрепваш до мен като луна във водата.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
An earlier Pew study found that some 45 percent of blacks (versus 15 percent of whites) who were born into the middle class in the 1960s had slid into poverty or near-poverty. Since it is unlikely that the effects of slavery and Jim Crow are hopscotching generations, perhaps something else is to blame. By retarding or otherwise interfering with black self-development, government programs have tended to do more harm than good. And black elites who choose to focus on the behavior of whites are encouraging these youngsters to do the same, and thus perpetuating the problem.
Jason L. Riley (Please Stop Helping Us: How Liberals Make It Harder for Blacks to Succeed)
But you don’t really think wearing a low-cut top to the boys’ party will solve all your problems, do you?” she asked. “Of course not. I think wearing a low-cut top to the boys’ part will show Sean I’m ready for him.” “Lori, no girl is ever ready for a boy like Sean. How were finals?” Clearly she wanted to change the subject to impress upon me that boys were not all there was to a teenage girl’s life. As if. “Finals?” I asked. “Yes, finals. To graduate from the tenth grade? You took them yesterday.” Wow, it was hard to believe I’d played hopscotch with the quadratic equation only twenty-seven hours ago. Thinking back, it seemed like I’d sleepwalked through the past nine months of school, compared with everything that had happened today. Time flew when you were having Sean.
Jennifer Echols (Endless Summer (The Boys Next Door, #1-2))
For my part, I wonder whether someday I will ever succeed in making it felt that the true character and the only one that interests me is the reader, to the degree in which something of what I write ought to contribute to his mutation, displacement, alienation, transportation.” In spite of the tacit confession of defeat in the last sentence, Ronald found a presumption in the note that displeased him. (–18)
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
School Library Journal Gr 3–6—This interactive manual is fun to read and even more fun to put into practice. From hopscotch to dodge ball, jacks to solitaire, and string games to memory games, all types of activities are included. Games to play with a ball, with cards, in a car on the go, alone, or in a group are all here to be enjoyed. The instructions are clear and easy to follow. There are also historical and factual asides for many of the entries. Some include variations on the main game or alternate names for the activity that have been used through the years. The illustrations depict children demonstrating a particular aspect of a game or just enjoying themselves playing. This is a great resource for parents and teachers, as well as for children.—Cynde Suite, Bartow County Library System, Adairsville, GA
J.J. Ferrer (The Art of Stone Skipping and Other Fun Old-Time Games: Stoopball, Jacks, String Games, Coin Flipping, Line Baseball, Jump Rope, and More)
И беше толку природно да ја преминам улицата, да ги искачам скалилата од мостот, да влезам во неговата слаба половина и да и се приближам на Мага, којашто се насмевнуваше без изненадување, убедена како и јас дека една случајна средба беше најмалку случајното во нашите животи и дека луѓето што договараат точни средби се истите оние на коишто им е потребна хартија со линии за да се допишуваат или коишто ја стискаат од долу тубата паста за заби.
Хулио Кортасар (Hopscotch)
...there are enormous regions where I have never been, and what one has not known is what one has not been. An anxiety to start running, go into a house, into that store, jump on a train, devour all of Jouhandeau, know German... What is defective is felt more as an intuitive poverty than as a mere lack of experience. It really doesn't afflict me not having read all of Jouhandeau, at most the melancholy feeling of too short a life for so many libraries, etc. The lack of experience is inevitable, if I read Joyce I am automatically sacrificing another book and vice versa, etc. The feeling of lack is sharper in... zones for detention of your eyes, your smell, your taste, and you can't get beyond that limit when you think you've caught anything fully, just like an iceberg the thing has a small piece outside and shows it to you, and the enormous rest of it is beyond our limits and that's why the Titanic went down.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Шляейки се по „Ке де Селестен”, стъпвам върху сухи листа и когато вдигам едно и го разглеждам добре, виждам, че е покрито с прах от старо злато, а отдолу има земи, дълбоки като мириса на мъх, който се полепва по ръката ми. Заради всичко това отнасям тези сухи листа в стаята си и ги закрепвам върху абажура на една лампа. Идва Осип, остава два часа и даже не поглежда лампата. На другия ден идва Етиен и все още с барета в ръка, Dis donc, c’est épatant, ça!*, и вдига лампата, изучава листата, във възторг е, Дюрер, плетеница от жилчици и така нататък. Една и съща история и две версии… Замислям се за всички листа, които вероятно не виждам, аз, събирачът на сухи листа, за толкова неща, които сигурно има във въздуха и тези очи няма да видят, тези очи – бедни прилепи, пърхащи около романи и филми, и изсъхнали листа. Навсякъде сигурно има лампи, има листа, които не виждам. *Гледай ти, това е страхотно (фр.) - бел. ред.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Amor, cerimônia ontologizante, doadora de ser. E por isso pensava agora o que talvez devesse ter pensado desde o princípio: sem possuir-se não havia possessão da outridade, e quem se possuía realmente? Quem estava de volta de si mesmo, da solidão absoluta que representa não contar sequer com a própria companhia, ter que entrar no cinema ou no prostíbulo ou na casa dos amigos ou em uma profissão absorvente ou no matrimônio para estar pelo menos só-entre-os-demais?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
É um pouco assim: há linhas de ar em volta da sua cabeça, do seu olhar, zonas de detenção dos seus olhos, do seu olfato, do seu paladar, ou seja, você anda com seu limite por fora e você não poderá ultrapassar esse limite quando pensar que já apreendeu plenamente qualquer coisa, a coisa que é igual a um iceberg, tem um pedacinho por fora e o mostra, com todo o resto do seu volume bem para lá do seu limite e foi assim que o Titanic afundou. Heste Holiveira sempre com os seus hexemplos. (SIC)
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[Los cafés...] son el territorio neutral para los apátridas del alma, el centro inmóvil de la rueda desde donde uno puede alcanzarse a sí mismo en plena carrera, verse entrar y salir como un maníaco, envuelto en mujeres o pagarés o tésis epistemológicas, y mientras revuelve el café en la tacita que va de boca en boca por el filo de los días, puede desapegadamente intentar la revisión y el balance, igualmente alejado del yo que entró hace una hora en el café y del yo que saldrá dentro de otra hora. Autotestigo y autojuez, autobiógrafo irónico entre dos cigarrillos
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Cu trecerea timpului, voi simţi tot mai puţin şi îmi voi aminti tot mai mult, dar ce e amintirea, daca nu limbajul sentimentelor, un dicţionar de chipuri şi zile şi parfumuri ce revin precum verbele şi adjectivele în cursul vorbirii, luând-o pe furiş înaintea lucrului în sine, a prezentului pur, întristându-ne sau învaţându-ne prin substituţie, pâna când propria noastra fiinţa ajunge şi ea sa fie substituită, faţa care priveşte în urma deschide ochii larg, adevăratul chip se şterge încet-încet ca în pozele de demult şi oricare dintre noi se preface dintr-o data in Ianus".
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Μόλις της μυρμοίλιζε το σγρόμπλι, ένιωθε την κλιμαθρίδα της να σφλύζει και έπεφταν σε υδροπλήξεις, σε άγρια ξεχαρβλώματα, σε απελπιστικές διελθυστήσεις. Κάθε φορά που έκανε να ξαναθλίψει το αρμάλι της, έμπλεχε σ' ένα ερίγμυλο φρίκυσμα και έπρεπε να ενηδύσει το άρνημα, νιώθοντας λίγο λίγο τις πλυχές να μαρμογαλιάζουν, να συνομελδώνουν, να αναγλυκώνονται, ώσπου σπάργωναν σαν την τριοιστρική εργομανίνη όταν αφήσεις να πέσουν πάνω της μερικές ραλτσίδες θρωπιοκυσθόλης. Αυτή όμως ήταν μόνο η αρχή, γιατί ερχόταν μια στιγμή που εκείνη σφύστριβε τ' αργούλια της και τον άφηνε να συρμώσει το ορφελίνι του. Μόλις όμως και συφουρφούλιαζαν, κάτι σαν ολολύχορδο τους διακορύφωνε, τους υπερδούκλωνε, τους παρόνρυζε και με μιας έφτανε ο αποτυφλώνας, οι λυσσόγοοι σχυσμοί της ύστριας, η ασμαινόπνοη στοματοποντή, τα σπροοίμια του αλίσπασμου μέσα σε μια μουσκιγρονική αγώπαυση. Ευοί! Ευοί! Αιωροβολεμένοι στην κορφή της μελαμφθονίας, ένιωθαν εξωκλυδωνισμένοι, μαργαρωμένοι, ξεμελεδιασμένοι. Το σκρόφι έτρεμε, οι φτεροπλήμμες είχαν κοπάσει, τα πάντα περιέληγαν σ' ένα βαθύ κρημνολόφι, σε άργαυλους από ασημοδιάφωνες γάζες, σε τρύφλια σχεδόν βάναυσα που τους ορθοδυνούσαν ως τα μνύχια της γραφής τους.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Amor mío, no te quiero por vos ni por mí ni por los dos juntos, no te quiero porque la sangre me llame a quererte,te quiero porque no sos mía, porque estás del otro lado, ahí donde me invitas a saltar y no puedo dar el salto, porque en lo más profundo de la posesión no estás en mí, no te alcanzo, no paso de tu cuerpo, de tu risa, hay horas en que me atormenta que me ames (cómo te gusta usar el verbo amar, con qué cursilería lo vas dejando caer sobre los platos y las sábanas y los autobuses), me atormenta tu amor que no me sirve de puente porque un puente no se sostiene de un solo lado, jamás Wright ni Le Corbusier van a hacer un puente sostenido de un solo lado, y no me mires con esos ojos de pájaro, para vos la operación del amor es tan sencilla,te curarás antes que yo y eso que me querés como yo no te quiero.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Y así, de feuille en aiguille, pienso en esos estados excepcionales en que por un instante se adivinan las hojas y las lámparas invisibles, se las siente en un aire que está fuera del espacio. Es muy simple, toda exaltación o depresión me empuja a un estado propicio a lo llamaré paravisiones es decir (lo malo es eso, decirlo) una aptitud instantánea para salirme, para de pronto desde fuera aprehenderme, o de dentro pero en otro plano, como si fuera alguien que me está mirando (mejor todavía —porque en realidad, no me veo— : como alguien que me está viviendo). No dura nada, dos pasos a la calle, el tiempo de respirar profundamente (a veces al despertarse dura un poco más, pero entonces es fabuloso) y en ese instante sé lo que soy porque estoy exactamente sabiendo lo que no soy (eso que ignoraré luego astutamente). Pero no hay palabras para una materia palabra y visión pura, como un bloque de evidencia. Imposible objetivar, precisar ese defectividad que aprehendí en el instante y que era clara ausencia o claro error o clara insuficencia pero sin saber de qué, qué. Otra manera de tratar de decirlo: Cuando es eso, ya no estoy mirando hacia el mundo, de mí a lo otro, sino que por un segundo soy el mundo, el plano de fuera, lo demás mirándome. Me veo como pueden verme los otros. Es inapreciable: por eso dura apenas. Mido mi defectividad, advierto todo lo que por ausencia o defecto no nos vemos nunca. Veo lo que no soy. Por ejemplo (esto lo armo de vuelta, pero sale de ahí): hay enormes zonas a las que no he llegado nunca, y lo que no se ha conocido es lo que se es. Ansiedad por echar a correr, entrar en una casa, en esa tienda, saltar a un tren, devorar todo Jouhandeau, saber alemán, conocer Aurangabad... Ejemplos localizados y lamentables pero que pueden dar una idea. (¿una idea?) Otra manera de querer decirlo: Lo defectivo se siente más como una pobreza intuitiva que como una mera falta de experiencia.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Hopscotch is played with a pebble that you move with the tip of your toe. The things you need : a sidewalk, a pebble, a toe, and a pretty chalk drawing, preferably in colors. On top is Heaven, on the bottom is Earth, it's very hard to get the pebble up to Heaven,you almost always miscalculate and the stone goes off the drawing. But little by little you start to get the knack of how to jump over the different squares (spiral hopscotch, rectangular hopscotch, fantasy hopscotch, not played very often ) and then one day you learn how to leave Earth and make the pebble climb up into Heaven (Et tous nos amours, Emmanuele was sobbing face down), the worst part of it is that precisely at that moment, when practically no one has learned how to make the pebble climb up into Heaven, childhood is over all of a sudden and you're into novels, into the anguish of the senseless divine trajectory, into the speculation about another Heaven that you have to learn to reach too.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[Sie zogen sich an] und stießen sich ab, wie es sein soll, wenn die Liebe nicht als Kitschbild oder als Romanze ohne Worte enden soll.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Deosebirea dintre mine si Manu e ca suntem aproape la fel. In astfel de cazuri, diferenta e un fel de cataclism iminent.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Die Frauen liebten ihn zunächst abgöttisch (...), bewunderten ihn (...) dann ließ irgend etwas sie die Leere ahnen, sie machten kehrt und er erleichterte ihnen die Flucht, öffnete ihnen die Tür, damit sie weglaufen konnten, um anderswo zu spielen.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[E]r sprach von einer Rasse von Fulltime-Lesern, von Bibliotheken, wimmelnd von Blaustrümpfen, die der Sonne und der Liebe untreu waren, von Häusern, wo der Geruch von Druckerschwärze der Fröhlichkeit des Knoblauchs den Garaus machte.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[Sie rollte] sich am Ende auf einem Sessel zusammen wie eine Katze, der Ungewissheit müde, und sah zu, wie es über den Schieferdächern Tag wurde, durch all den Rauch hindurch, der Platz hatte, zwischen einem Augenpaar und einem geschlossenen Fenster und einer inbrünstig nutzlosen Nacht.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[E]r gibt uns das Gefühl, weniger einsam zu sein in dieser Sackgasse im Dienste der Großen-Eitelkeit-Idealismus-Realismus-Spiritualismus-Materialismus des Abendlandes, G.m.b.H.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Така си я караха, Пънч и Джуди, привличаха се и се отблъскваха, както и трябва да бъде, ако човек не иска любовта да свърши като картичка или като романс без думи. Но любовта, тази дума...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Ако яснотата на мисълта води до бездействие, не ставаше ли тя подозрителна, не прикриваше ли една особено демонична форма на слепота?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Simplesmente bebia uma genebra de um só trago e chamava a si mesmo de cretino.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Here at The Mecca, under pain of selection, we have made a home. As do black people on summer blocks marked with needles, vials, and hopscotch squares. As do black people dancing it out at rent parties, as do black people at their family reunions where we are regarded like the survivors of catastrophe. As do black people toasting their cognac and German beers, passing their blunts and debating MCs. As do all of us who have voyaged through death, to life upon these shores.
Ta-Nehisi Coates (Between the World and Me)
As soon as he began to amalate the noeme, the clemise began to smother her and they fell into hydromuries, into savage ambonies, into exasperating sustales. Each time that he tried to relamate the hairincops, he became entangled in a whining grimate and had to face up to envulsioning the novalisk, feeling how little by little the arnees would spejune, were becoming peltronated, redoblated, until they were stretched out like the ergomanine trimalciate which drops a few filures of cariaconce. And it was still only the beginning, because right away she tordled her hurgales, allowing him gently to bring up his orfelunes. No sooner had they cofeathered than something like a ulucord encrestored them, extrajuxted them, and paramoved them, suddenly it was the clinon, the sterfurous convulcant of matericks, the slobberdigging raimouth of the orgumion.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
An equally unusual thing happened in 1953 when the McDonalds were designing their “golden arches” building. They wanted to lay it out in the most efficient way possible, placing windows and equipment so that each crew member’s job could be done with a minimum number of steps. Mac and Dick had a tennis court behind their house, and they got Art Bender and a couple of other operations people up there to draw out the whole floor plan with chalk, actual size, like a giant hopscotch.
Ray Kroc (Grinding It Out: The Making of McDonald's)
I touch your mouth, I touch the edge of your mouth with my finger, I am drawing it as if it were something my hand was sketching, as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and all I have to do is close my eyes to erase it and start all over again, every time I can make the mouth I want appear, the mouth which my hand chooses and sketches on your face, and which by some chance that I do not seek to understand coincides exactly with your mouth which smiles beneath the one my hand is sketching on you. You look at me, from close up you look at me, closer and closer and then we play cyclops, we look closer and closer at one another and our eyes get larger, the come closer, they merge into one and the two cyclopses look at each other, blending as they breathe, our mouths touch and struggle in gentle warmth, biting each other with their lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go to sink into your hair, to cherish slowly the depth of your hair while we kiss as though our mouths were filled with flowers or with fish, with lively movements and dark fragrance. And if we bite each other the pain is sweet, and if we smother each other in a brief and terrible sucking in together of our breaths, that momentary death is beautiful. And there is but one saliva and one flavour of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
And I felt antagonism for all these things when I was with La Maga, for we loved each other in a sort of dialectic of magnet and iron filings, attack and defense, handball and wall.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Doll, novel. Death, doll.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
station. I had a sinking feeling that our future lay somewhere inside one of these dark, gaping mouths. “Oh, I hope we don’t have to go mucking about in there,” said Olive. “Of course we do,” Enoch said. “It isn’t a proper holiday until we’ve plumbed every available sewer.” The pigeon bopped rightward. We started down the tracks. I hopscotched around an oily puddle and a legion of rats scurried away from my feet, sending Olive into Bronwyn’s arms with a shriek. The tunnel yawned before us, black and menacing. It occurred to me that this would be a very bad place to meet a hollowgast. Here there’d be no walls to climb, no houses to shelter in, no tomb lids to close behind us. It was long and straight and lit only by a few red bulbs, glinting feebly at scattered intervals. I walked faster. The darkness closed around us. When I was a kid, I used to play hide-and-seek with my dad. I was always the hider and he the seeker. I was really good at it, primarily because I, unlike most kids of four or five, had the then-peculiar ability to be extremely quiet for
Ransom Riggs (Hollow City (Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, # 2))
Yo mama is so fat… when she plays hopscotch, she goes North America, South America, Europe, Asia.
Johnny B. Laughing (Yo Mama Jokes Bible: 350+ Funny & Hilarious Yo Mama Jokes)
Of course' said Joe, 'I quite realize that in an institution like this, you must have discipline. Please don't think me a foolish sentimentalist. If the order has gone out that the gang is to play croquet, and Number 6408, let us say, wants to play hopscotch, naturally you have to be firm. But discipline is one thing, harshness another. There is a difference between firmness and brutality.
P.G. Wodehouse
...y uno está tan triste, Horacio, porque todo es hermoso...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Qué hijo de puta
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
A very confused, very juvenile moment of awkward backings and bumpings followed, and everyone found himself talking to the person he least desired to. Isabella manoeuvred herself and Froggy Parker, freshman at Harvard, with whom she had once played hop-scotch, to a seat on the stairs. A humorous reference to the past was all she needed. The things Isabelle could do socially with one idea were remarkable.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (This Side of Paradise)
I’m getting close to ubiquity, and going crazy is just one step away
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Viata, ca un comentariu despre ceva ce nu putem cuprinde si care se afla aici, la un pas de saltul pe care nu-l facem. Viata, un balet cu un subiect istoric, o istorie intemeiata pe un fapt trait, un fapt trait bazat pe un fapt real. Viata, fotografiere a numarului, posedare in neguri (femeie, monstru?), viata, proxeneta a mortii, splendid joc de carti, tarot cu simboluri uitate pe care niste maini deformate de guta il reduc la o biata pasienta.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Orice poate fi ucis, în afară de dorul de împărăţie, îl purtăm în culoarea ochilor,în fiecare iubire, în tot ceea ce în străfundurile fiinţei ne chinuie şi ne eliberează şi ne înşală. Wishful thinking, poate; dar aceasta e altă definiţie posibilă a bipedului fără pene".
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Realmente nu mă mâhneşte din cale-afară că nu l-am citit pe Jouhandeau în întregime, cel mai mult mă încearca melancolia ca viaţa e prea scurtă pentru atâtea biblioteci.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
ŢDe ce atât de departe de zei? Poate fiindcă ne punem intrebarea.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Yeah, sorry, I’m fine. It was just a bit weird to see Tom and Penny again,’ Otto said with a sigh. ‘It just seems so long ago, you know, life before this place. Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to see the real world again. That I’m never going to leave. Do you know what I mean?’ ‘Of course I do,’ Laura said. ‘I’m sure we all feel like that sometimes but there’s going to be a life after H.I.V.E. you know. For all of us.’ ‘Assuming we survive till then,’ Otto said with a wry smile. ‘Well, there is that,’ Laura said, ‘although it’s been several months since anyone tried to kill us so that has to be a good sign.’ ‘And yet here we are working on a device that will probably end up getting us killed. It’ll either explode or Doctor Nero will catch us with it. Either way we’re dead,’ Otto said cheerily. ‘I’ll have you know that there’s a remarkably low chance of this exploding,’ Laura said with mock indignation. ‘If you’d designed it on the other hand, well, then we might as well be playing hopscotch in a minefield.’ ‘Ouch, suppose I asked for that,’ Otto said with a grin.
Mark Walden (Aftershock (H.I.V.E., #7))
Following the Soviet invasion, the Communists, to their credit, passed decrees making girls’ education compulsory and abolishing certain oppressive tribal customs—such as the bride-price, a payment to the bride’s family in return for her hand in marriage. However, by massacring thousands of tribal elders, they paved the way for the “commanders” to step in as the new elite. Aided by American and Saudi patronage, extremism flourished. What had once been a social practice confined to areas deep in the hinterlands now became a political practice, which, according to ideologues, applied to the entire country. The modest gains of urban women were erased. “The first time a woman enters her husband’s house," Heela “told me about life in the countryside, “she wears white”—her wedding dress—“and the first time she leaves, she wears white”—the color of the Muslim funeral shroud. The rules of this arrangement were intricate and precise, and, it seemed to Heela, unchanged from time immemorial. In Uruzgan, a woman did not step outside her compound. In an emergency, she required the company of a male blood relative to leave, and then only with her father’s or husband’s permission. Even the sound of her voice carried a hint of subversion, so she was kept out of hearing range of unrelated males. When the man of the house was not present, boys were dispatched to greet visitors. Unrelated males also did not inquire directly about a female member of the house. Asking “How is your wife?” qualified as somewhere between uncomfortably impolite and downright boorish. The markers of a woman’s life—births, anniversaries, funerals, prayers, feasts—existed entirely within the four walls of her home. Gossip, hopscotching from living room to living room, was carried by husbands or sons.
Anand Gopal (No Good Men Among the Living: America, the Taliban, and the War through Afghan Eyes)
Oliveira: Estás usando palabras. Les encanta que uno las saque del ropero y las haga dar vueltas por la pieza. Realidad, hombre de Neanderthal, miralas cómo juegan, cómo se nos meten por las orejas y se tiran por los toboganes. Étienne: Es cierto. Por eso prefiero mis pigmentos, estoy más seguro. Oliveira: ¿Seguro de qué? Étienne: De su efecto. Oliveira: En todo caso de su efecto en vos, pero no en la portera de Ronald. Tus colores no son más seguros que mis palabras, viejo. Étienne: Por lo menos mis colores no pretenden explicar nada. Oliveira: ¿Y vos te conformás con que no haya una explicación?
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
Así andaban, Punch y Judy, atrayéndose y rechazándose como hace falta si no se quiere que el amor termine en cromo o en romanza sin palabras. Pero el amor, esa palabra...
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
No una certidumbre metódica, oh no, viejo querido, eso no por lo que más quieras, ni un in vino veritas ni una dialéctica a lo Fichte u otros lapidarios spinozianos, solamente como una aceptación en la náusea, Heráclito se había hecho enterrar en un montón de estiércol para curarse la hidropesía(...) En la mierda hasta el cogote, Heráclito el Oscuro, exactamente igual que ellos pero sin el vino, y además para curarse la hidropesía. Entonces tal vez fuera eso, estar en la mierda hasta el cogote y también esperar, porque seguramente Heráclito había tenido que quedarse en la mierda días enteros, y Oliveira se estaba acordando que también Heráclito había dicho que si no se esperaba jamás se encontraría lo inesperado (...) Apretando el cigarrillo entre los labios hasta sentirlo casi como parte de la boca, Oliveira la escuchaba, la dejaba que se fuera apretando contra él, se repetía fríamente que no era mejor que ella y que en el peor de los casos siempre podría curarse como Heráclito, tal vez el mensaje más penetrante del Oscuro era el que no había escrito, dejando que la anécdota, la voz de los discípulos la transmitiera para que quizá algún oído fino entendiese alguna vez.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
La guitarra en el ropero para siempre está colgada, nadie en ella toca nada ni hace sus cuerdas sonar.
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)
[...] a lo sumo la melancolía de una vida demasiado corta para tantas bibliotecas [...]
Julio Cortázar (Hopscotch)