Libra Quotes

The sin which is unpardonable is knowingly and wilfully to reject truth, to fear knowledge lest that knowledge pander not to thy prejudices.

Facts are lonely things

Some nights I need to be held. Tonight I'm a listener. So nice to lie in rumpled sheets and listen. Cover me with words.

There's always more to it. This is what history consists of. It is the sum total of the things they aren't telling us.

A fact is innocent until someone wants it; then it become intelligence.

That which we fear to touch is often the very fabric of our salvation.

Two thousand years ago the night sky looked completely different, and so when you get right down to it, the Greek conceptions of star signs as related to birth dates are grossly inaccurate for today's day and age. It's called the Line of Procession: back then the sun didn't set in Taurus, but in Gemini. A September 24 birthday didn't mean you were a Libra, but a Virgo. And there was a thirteenth zodiac constellation, Ophiuchus the Serpent Bearer, which rose between Sagittarius and Scorpio for only four days. The reason it's all off kilter? The earth's axis wobbles. Life isn't nearly as stable as we want it to be.

The less important you are in an office, the more they expect the happy smile.

That clean but lonely feeling when there are no other cars. The traffic lights changing just for you.

Archbishop James Usher (1580-1656) published Annales Veteris et Novi Testaments in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 B.C. One of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21st of October, 4004 B.C., at exactly 9:00 A.M., because God liked to get work done early in the morning while he was feeling fresh. This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour. The whole business with the fossilized dinosaur skeletons was a joke the paleontologists haven't seen yet. This proves two things: Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players, [ie., everybody.] to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time. Secondly, the Earth's a Libra.

God made big people. And God made little people. But Colt made the .45 to even things up.

Some people don't believe in God but they color eggs at Easter just to change the pattern of their days.

There is a world inside the world.

The truth of the world is exhausting.

Maybe what has to happen is that the individual must allow himself to be swept along, must find himself in the stream of no-choice, the single direction. This is what makes things inevitable. You use the restrictions and penalties they invent to make yourself stronger. History means to merge. The purpose of history is to climb out of your own skin.

I didn’t realize I actually had post-traumatic stress disorder at the time, but why would I think I had that? Anyway, how would I know which was post-traumatic stress, which is addiction, which is bipolar, which is Libra?

We lead more interesting lives than we think. We are characters in plots, without the compression and numinous sheen. Our lives, examined carefully in all their affinities and links, abound with suggestive meaning, with themes and involute turnings we have not allowed ourselves to see completely.

If we are on the outside, we assume a conspiracy is the perfect working scheme. Silent nameless men with unadorned hearts. A conspiracy is everything that ordinary life is not. It's the inside game, cold, sure, undistracted, forever closed off to us. We are the flawed ones, the innocents, trying to make some rough sense of the daily jostle. Conspirators have a logic and daring beyond our reach. All conspiracies are the same taut story of men who find coherence in some criminal act.

Soy rubia. Rubísima. Soy tan rubia que me dicen: "Mona, no es sino que aletee ese pelo sobre mi cara y verá que me libra de esta sombra que me acosa". No era sombra sino muerte lo que le cruzaba la cara y me dio miedo perder mi brillo.

I’ll tell you what it means, these orbiting sensors that can hear us in our beds. It means the end of loyalty. The more complex the systems, the less conviction in people. Conviction will be drained out of us. Devices will drain us, make us vague and pliant.

a Libra. Balanced. Diplomatic. Even-tempered.

A shrewd person would one day start a religion based on coincidence, if he hasn't already, and make a million.

Secrets are an exalted state, almost a dream state. They're a way of arresting motion, stopping the world so we can see ourselves in it.

Think of two parallel lines. […] One is the life of Lee H. Oswald. One is the conspiracy to kill the President. What bridges the space between them? What makes a connection inevitable? There is a third line. It comes out of dreams, visions, intuitions, prayers, out of the deepest levels of the self. It's not generated by cause and effect like the other two lines. It's a line that cuts across causality, cuts across time. It has no history that we can recognize or understand. But it forces a connection. It puts a man on the path of his destiny.

If the world is where we hide from ourselves, what do we do when the world is no longer accessible? We invent a false name, invent a destiny, purchase a firearm through the mail.

The falling away of things we carry around with us, twilight and chimney smoke.

Listen" said Mather. "I understand what you're going through, I really do. An Indian woman in college. I understand. I'm a Marxist." Really," said Marie. "I'm a Libra.

MUST BE QUEER & TRANS FRIENDLY. MUST NOT BE AFRAID OF FIRE OR DOGS. NO LIBRAS, WE ALREADY HAVE ONE.

Devices make us pliant. We want to please them. The machine was his only hope of deliverance after what he'd done, what he'd loosed into the crowd. A way out of death.

Everything is supposed to be something. But it never is. That's the nature of existence.

Something about the time of year depressed him deeply. Overcast skies and cutting wind, leaves falling, dusk falling, dark too soon, night flying down before you are ready. It's a terror. It's a bareness of the soul. He hears the rustle of nuns. Here comes winter in the bone. We've set it loose on the land. There must be some song or poem, some folk magic we can use to ease this fear. Skelly Bone Pete. Here it is in the landscape and sky. We've set it loose. We've opened up the ground and here it is. He took Interstate 45 south. He didn't want them to kill Leon. He felt a saturating sense of death, a dread in the soft filling of his bones, the suckable part, approaching Galveston now.

A word is also a picture of a word.

Then they’re always trying to sell you something. Everything is based on forcing people to buy. If you can’t buy what they’re selling, you’re a zero in the system.

But idealists of course are unpredictable. They tend to be the ones who turn bitter overnight, deceived by lies they’ve told themselves.

La libra de moneda escocesa contenía, desde los tiempos de Alejandro I hasta los de Robert Bruce, una libra de plata del mismo peso y ley que la libra esterlina inglesa.

Signs and wonders, eh? Pity if there is nothing wonderful in signs, and significant in wonders! There's a clue somewhere; wait a bit; hist--hark! By Jove, I have it! Look, you Doubloon, your zodiac here is the life of man in one round chapter; and now I'll read it off, straight out of the book. Come, Almanack! To begin: there's Aries, or the Ram--lecherous dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or the Bull--he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini, or the Twins--that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path--he gives a few fierce bites and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that's our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes Libra, or Scales--happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us in rear; we are curing the wound, when whang comes the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing himself. As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside! here's the battering-ram, Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt, he comes rushing and headlong we are tossed; when Aquarius, or the the Waterbearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and, to wind up, with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep. There's a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and the sun goes through it every year, and yet comes out of it all alive and hearty.

[Lee Oswald] saw himself as part of something vast and sweeping. He was the product of a sweeping history, he and his mother, locked into a process, a system of money and property that diminished their human worth every day, as if by scientific law. The books made him part of something. Something led up to his presence in this room, in this particular skin, and something would follow. Men in small rooms. Men reading and waiting, struggling with secret and feverish ideas.

Libra does. Winning an intellectual point or decision, however minor, major—or in the middle—is the reason for the Libra person’s very existence, symbolized by the Libra Scales, balanced in perfect harmony and justice.

Six point nine seconds of heat and light. Let’s call a meeting to analyze the blur. Let’s devote our lives to understanding this moment, separating the elements of each crowded second. We will build theories that gleam like jade idols, intriguing systems of assumption, four-faced, graceful. We will follow the bullet trajectories backwards to the lives that occupy the shadows, actual men who moan in their dreams. Elm Street. A woman wonders why she is sitting on the grass, bloodspray all around. Tenth Street. A witness leaves her shoes on the hood of a bleeding policeman’s car. A strangeness, Branch feels, that is almost holy. There is much here that is holy, an aberration in the heartland of the real.

L'azione è verità, e la verità vacilla quando la guerra finisce e gli abitanti del villaggio sono liberi di tornare ai loro campi. Sopravviviamo, e siamo nuovamente sconfitti.

There is a thing about the trust of a dog that makes up for a lot of heartache we take in this life.

Sol in Libra When the sun passeth through Libra, it is a good time for journeys. Beware of open enemies, war, and opposition.

I’m not looking to wear the white man out with my ability to suffer.

Martha Nussbaum tiene razón cuando sostiene que la educación no nos libra necesariamente de los peores comportamientos..., pero la ignorancia los asegura.

He has abandoned his life to understanding that moment in Dallas, the seven seconds that broke the back of the American century.

Our lives, examined carefully in all their affinities and links, abound with suggestive meaning, with themes and involute turnings we have not allowed ourselves to see completely.

Secondly, the Earth's a Libra.

LIBRA Today you must leave it alone. Walk away from it. Be strong, be sensible and above all else, be less bothered. Practise the art of ‘not caring’. There’s your solution.

Once you start a file, Delphine, it's just a matter of time before the material comes pouring in. Notes, lists, photos, rumors. Every bit and piece and whisper in the world that doesn't have a life until someone comes along to collect it. It's all been waiting just for you.

When Lee has a certain look on his face, eyes kind of amused, mouth small and tight, he finds himself thinking of his father. He believes it is a look his father may have used. It feels like his father. A curious sensation, the look coming upon him, taking hold in an unmistakable way, and then his old man is here, eerie and forceful and whole, a meeting across worlds.

Quizá tenemos miedo a lo que viene después porque, en el fondo, una brizna de nuestro ser recuerda algo terrible. Algo que olvidamos cuando llenamos por primera vez de aire nuestros pulmones, y lloramos. Y si nada nos libra de la muerte, al menos que el amor nos salve de la vida.

Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players,* to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time. Secondly, the Earth’s a Libra.

Seeking young single roommate for 3br apartment upstairs, 6th floor. $700/mo. Must be queer & trans friendly. Must not be afraid of fire or dogs. No Libras, we already have one. Call Niko.

There is enough mystery in the facts as we know them, enough of conspiracy, coincidence, loose ends, dead ends, multiple interpretations. There is no need […] to invent the grand and masterful scheme, the plot that reaches flawlessly in a dozen directions.

Spy planes, drone aircraft, satellites with cameras that can see from three hundred miles what you can see from a hundred feet. They see and they hear. Like ancient monks, you know, who recorded knowledge, wrote it painstakingly down. These systems collect and process. All the secret knowledge of the world.

Sacrifice is a requirement. The world rests on a Libra's scale. For new saplings to root, others must fall. To walk towards one home, you must turn on another. To nurture the right hand, you must neglect the left.

Even as he printed the words, he imagined people reading them, people moved by his loneliness and disappointment, even by his wretched spelling, the childish mesh of his composition. Let them see the struggle and humiliation, the effort he had to exert to write a simple sentence. The pages were crowded, smudged, urgent, a true picture of his state of mind, of his rage and frustration, knowing a thing but not being able to record it properly.

Is he one of them now? Frustrated, stuck, self-watching, looking for a means of connection, a way to break out. After Oswald, men in America are no longer required to lead lives of quiet desperation. You apply for a credit card, buy a handgun, travel through cities, suburbs and shopping malls, anonymous, anonymous, looking for a chance to take a shot at the first puffy empty famous face, just to let people know there is someone out there who reads the papers.

I made a mistake and now my time is up. The Shadow has discovered me and there is no hope for me to escape their wrath. The answers you seek are hidden between Leo and Libra. Don’t trust the flames. Claim your throne. - Falling Star

It was uncanny. You press a button and a man drops dead a hundred meters away. It seemed hollow and remote, falsifying everything. It was a trick of the lenses. The man is an accurate picture. Then he is upside down. Then he is right side up. You shoot at a series of images conveyed to you through a metal tube. The force of a death should be enormous but how can you know what kind of man you’ve killed or who was the braver and stronger if you have to peer through layers of glass that deliver the image but obscure the meaning of the act? War has a conscience or it’s ordinary murder.

He was a regulator first-class, which was another term for metalworker unskilled.

Whatever you set your mind to, your personal total obsession, this is what kills you. Poetry kills you if you're a poet, and so on. People choose their death whether they know it or not.

The Agency was the one subject in his life that could never be exhausted. Central Intelligence. Beryl saw it as the best organized church in the Christian world, a mission to collect and store everything that everyone has ever said and then reduce it to a microdot and call it God.

Always the pain, the chaos of composition. He could not find order in the field of little symbols. They were in the hazy distance. He could not clearly see the picture that is called a word. A word is also a picture of a word. He saw spaces, incomplete features, and tried to guess at the rest. He made wild tries at phonetic spelling. But the language tricked him with its inconsistencies. He watched sentences deteriorate, powerless to make them right. The nature of things was to be elusive. Things slipped through his perceptions. He could not get a grip on the runaway world.

Tutto dovrebbe essere qualcosa. Ma non lo è mai. È la natura dell'esistenza.

There is much here that is holy, an aberration in the heartland of the real.

It is the neon epic of Saturday night.

El trabajo nos libra de tres insufribles calamidades: el aburrimiento, el vicio y la necesidad.

Mas em viagens, gratificações, processos, multas, elefante e despesas de toda a espécie, o meu homem já deixou mais de mil libras pelo caminho.

All conspiracies are the same taut story of men who find coherence in some criminal act. —Don DeLillo, Libra

A notícia da herança me chegou certa noite quase simultaneamente com a aprovação do decreto que deu o voto às mulheres. A carta de um advogado caiu na caixa do correio e, quando a abri, descobri que ela [a tia] me havia deixado por toda a vida quinhentas libras anuais. Dos dois – o voto e o dinheiro – o dinheiro, devo admitir, pareceu-me infinitamente mais importante.

Te lo doy, no para que recuerdes el tiempo, sino para que consigas olvidarlo de vez en cuando durante un momento y no malgastes todo tu aliento intentando conquistarlo. Porque ninguna batalla se ganas jamás, como él decía Ni tan siquiera se libra. Sólo el campo de batalla revela al hombre su propia locura y desesperación, y la victoria es ilusión de filósofos e idiotas.

Everyone was a spook or dupe or asset, a double, courier, cutout or defector, or was related to one. We were all linked in a vast and rhythmic coincidence, a daisy chain of rumor, suspicion and secret wish.

En tanto que nosotros hemos preferido siempre adaptar nuestra economía y tecnología a los seres humanos, no nuestros seres humanos a la economía y tecnología de otros. Importamos lo que no podemos fabricar; pero fabricamos e importamos sólo lo que podemos permitirnos. Y lo que podemos permitirnos está limitado, no sólo por las libras, marcos y dólares que poseemos, sino también, y principalmente... principalmente por nuestro deseo de ser felices, nuestra ambición de ser humanos.

Na Natureza nunca eu descobriria um contorno feio ou repetido! Nunca duas folhas de hera, que, na verdura ou recorte, se assemelhassem! Na Cidade, pelo contrário, cada casa repete servilmente a outra casa; todas as faces reproduzem a mesma indiferença ou a mesma inquietação; as ideias têm todas o mesmo valor, o mesmo cunho, a mesma forma, como as libras; e até o que há mais pessoal e íntimo, a Ilusão, é em todos idêntica, e todos a respiram, e todos se perdem nela como no mesmo nevoeiro... A "mesmice" - eis o horror das Cidades!

What was glimpsed in Aquarius—what was envisioned, believed in, prophesied, predicted, doubted, and forewarned—is made, in Pisces, manifest. Those solitary visions that, but a month ago, belonged only to the dreamer, will now acquire the form and substance of the real. We were of our own making, and we shall be our own end. And after Pisces? Out of the womb, the bloody birth. We do not follow: we cannot cross from last to first. Aries will not admit a collective point of view, and Taurus will not relinquish the subjective. Gemini's code is an exclusive one. Cancer seeks a source, Leo, a purpose, and Virgo, a design; but these are projects undertaken singly. Only in the zodiac's second act will we begin to show ourselves: in Libra, as a notion, in Scorpio, as a quality, and in Sagittarius, as a voice. In Capricorn we will gain memory, and in Aquarius, vision; it is only in Pisces, the last and oldest of the zodiacal signs, that we acquire a kind of selfhood, something whole. But the doubled fish of Pisces, that mirrored womb of self and self-awareness, is an ourobouros of mind—both the will of fate, and the fated will—and the house of self-undoing is a prison built by prisoners, airless, door-less, and mortared from within. These alterations come upon us irrevocably, as the hands of the clock-face come upon the hour.

Retirado en la paz de estos desiertos con pocos, pero doctos libros juntos, vivo en conversación con los difuntos, y escucho con mis ojos a los muertos. Si no siempre entendidos, siempre abiertos, o enmiendan, o fecundan mis asuntos; y en músicos callados contrapuntos al sueño de la vida andan despiertos. Las grandes almas que la muerte ausenta, de injurias de los años vengadora, libra, ¡oh gran don Joseph!, docta la imprenta. En fuga irrevocable huye la hora; pero aquella el mejor cálculo cuenta, que en la lección y estudios nos mejora.

La maggior parte degli uomini, Kamala, sono come foglia secca, che si libra e si rigira nell'aria e scende ondeggiando al suolo. Ma altri, pochi, sono come stelle fisse, che vanno per un loro corso preciso, e non c'è vento che li tocchi, hanno in se stessi la loro legge e il loro cammino.

Voglio dirti una cosa che non dovresti dimenticarti mai. Se qualcuno ti dà fastidio una volta e poi un'altra e un'altra e un'altra ancora, qualcuno con delle ambizioni, qualcuno avido di territorio, la prima regola da osservare è mirare in alto. In altre parole, al massimo livello. È Lassù che stanno perdendo il controllo della situazione. In altre parole, bisogna andare dritti al vertice. Bisogna fare fuori il numero uno. In altre parole, bisogna fare in modo che al vertice ci sia un uomo nuovo che capisca il messaggio e cambi politica. Se tagli la testa, la coda non si dimena più.

Quien elige una áurea medianía, obtiene tanto la seguridad que le libra de la sórdidas fealdades que cubre un techo resquebrajado como la sobriedad que libra de un palacio sometido a la envidia. En la adversidad tiene esperanza, en la prosperidad teme la suerte adversa, teniendo el corazón bien dispuesto.

Secondly, the Earth’s a Libra. The astrological prediction for Libra in the ‘Your Stars Today’ column of the Tadfield Advertiser, on the day this history begins, read as follows:- LIBRA. 24 September–23 October. You may be feeling run down and always in the same old daily round. Home and family matters are highlighted and are hanging fire. Avoid unnecessary risks. A friend is important to you. Shelve major decisions until the way ahead seems clear. You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, so avoid salads. Help could come from an unexpected quarter. This was perfectly correct on every count except for the bit about the salads.

Një nga marifetet më të padëgjuara të grekërve ka qenë dhënia e ryshfeteve zyrtarëve të lartë në Stamboll për të nxjerrë një ferman që të ndalonte qarkullimin apo mbajtjen e librave shqip. U quajt një veprim i dënueshëm, madje edhe po të mbaje libra kaq të padëmshëm si gramatika ose aritmetika, po të ishin shkruar shqip.

Le trame possiedono una logica. C'è una tendenza, nelle trame, a evolvere in direzione della morte.

TIME TO SACRIFICE TAURUS This is the night of union when the stars scatter their rice over us. The sky is excited! Venus cannot stop singing the little songs she's making up, like birds in the first warm spring weather. The North Star can't quit looking over at Leo. Pisces is stirring milky dust from the ocean floor. Jupiter rides his horse near Saturn, "Old man, jump up behind me! The juice is coming back! Think of something happy to shout as we go. "Mars washes his bloody sword, puts it up, and begins building things. The Aquarian water jar fills, and the Virgin pours it generously. The Pleiades and Libra and Aries have no trembling in them anymore. Scorpio walks out looking for a lover, and so does Sagittarius! This is not crooked walking like the Crab. This is a holiday we've been waiting for. It is finally time to sacrifice Taurus and learn how the sky is a lens to look through. Listen to what's inside what I say. Shams will appear at dawn; then even night will change from its beloved animated darkness to a day within this ordinary sweet daylight.

Whatever you set your mind to, your personal total obsession, this is what kills you. Poetry kills you if you’re a poet, and so on. People choose their death whether they know it or not.

Bate las alas Amor y enciéndelos por librarlos; crece el fuego y él se quema; tú me engañas, yo me abraso; tú me incitas, yo me pierdo; tú me animas, yo me espanto; tú me esfuerzas, yo me turbo; tú me libras, yo me enlazo; tú me llevas, yo me quedo; tú me enseñas, yo me atajo porque es tanto mi peligro que juzgo por menos daño, pues todo ha de ser morir, morir sufriendo y callando.

Pero permitidme al mismo tiempo recordaros que desde el año 1866 han funcionado en Inglaterra como mínimo dos colegios universitarios de mujeres; que a partir del año 1880 la ley ha autorizado a las mujeres casadas a ser dueñas de sus propios bienes y que en el año 1919 —es decir, hace ya nueve largos años— se le concedió el voto a la mujer. Os recordaré también que pronto hará diez años que la mayoría de las profesiones os están permitidas. Si reflexionáis sobre estos inmensos privilegios y el tiempo que hace que venís disfrutando de ellos, y sobre el hecho de que deben de haber actualmente unas dos mil mujeres capaces de ganar quinientas libras al año, admitiréis que la excusa de que os han faltado las oportunidades, la preparación, el estímulo, el tiempo y el dinero necesarios no os sirve.

-¿Cómo se sale de aqui? -Si tanta prisa tiene... Hay dos maneras, la permanente y la temporal. La permanente es por el tejado: un buen salto y se libra usted de toda esa bazofia para siempre. La salida temporal está por allí, al fondo, donde anda aquel atontado puño en alto al que se le caen los pantalones y hace el saludo revolucionario a todo el que pasa. Pero si sale por ahí, tarde o temprano volverá aquí.

Realmente, pensé, guardando las monedas en mi bolso, es notable el cambio de humor que unos ingresos fijos traen consigo. Ninguna fuerza en el mundo puede quitarme mis quinientas libras. Tengo asegurados para siempre la comida, el cobijo y el vestir. Por tanto, no solo cesan el esforzarse y el luchar, sino también el odio y la amargura. No necesito odiar a ningún hombre; no puede herirme. No necesito halagar a ningún hombre; no tiene nada que darme.

Una conspiración es todo aquello que la vida normal no es. Es el juego privado, frío, implacable, eternamente ajeno a nosotros. Nosotros, los inocentes, siempre intentando buscar un sentido a los empujones diarios, somos los imperfectos. Los conspiradores poseen una lógica y una osadía que superan nuestra capacidad de comprensión. Todas las conspiraciones son la misma historia de hombres que encuentran coherencia en un acto delictivo. DON DELILLO, Libra

The Oswald shadings, the multiple images, the split perceptions—eye color, weapons caliber—these seem a foreboding of what is to come. The endless fact-rubble of the investigations. How many shots, how many gunmen, how many directions? Powerful events breed their own network of inconsistencies. The simple facts elude authentication. How many wounds on the President's body? What is the size and shape of the wounds? The multiple Oswald reappears. Isn't that him in a photograph of a crowd of people on the front steps of the Book Depository just as the shooting begins? A startling likeness, Branch concedes. He concedes everything. He questions everything, including the basic suppositions we make about our world of light and shadow, solid objects and ordinary sounds, and our ability to measure such things, to determine weight, mass and direction, to see things as they are, recall them clearly, be able to say what happened.

Te lo ricordi com'era, sudare sotto le coperte, da bambini? La febbre è una cosa segreta. È come cadere in un buco dove nessuno può seguirti, ma non provi né paura né dolore perché non ti senti neanche te stesso. Io adoro raggomitolarmi nel sudore.

«Si vallë arritën të ndjeheshim mirë në atë lloj vetmie, ë?!» «Vetmia s’është gjithnjë e keqe…», mu përgjigjë Tina. «Si s’qenka e keqe? Asnjë prej librave që kemi lexuar atje, nuk gjendet këtu. Tërë këta tituj këtu, të panjohur atje. Qindra libra dhe autorë që s’i kemi pasur dot në moshën e formimit të mendjes e shijes…» Tina heshti për pak. Për të më lënë të merresha me veten. «Është mirë të ndjerit e mungesës, edhe me vonesë…», shtoi pas pak. «Si ta ndjenim mungesën, kur s’dinim ç’kishim?» «Mungesat ndjehen kur u vjen hera…»

So should patients born under Libra and Gemini be deprived of treatment? You would say no, of course, and that would make you wiser than many in the medical profession: the CCSG trial found that aspirin was effective at preventing stroke and death in men, but not in women;30 as a result, women were undertreated for a decade, until further trials and overviews showed a benefit. That is just one of many subgroup analyses that have misled us in medicine, often incorrectly identifying subgroups of people who wouldn’t benefit from a treatment that was usually effective. So, for example, we thought the hormone-blocking drug tamoxifen was no good for treating breast cancer in women if they were younger than fifty (we were wrong). We thought clotbusting drugs were ineffective, or even harmful, when treating heart attacks in people who’d already had a heart attack (we were wrong). We thought drugs called ‘ACE inhibitors’ stopped reducing the death rate in heart failure patients if they were also on aspirin (we were wrong). Unusually, none of these findings was driven by financial avarice: they were driven by ambition, perhaps; excitement at new findings, certainly; ignorance of the risks of subgroup analysis; and, of course, chance.

I'll read it off, straight out of the book. Come, Almanack! To begin: there's Aries, or the Ram— lecherous dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or the Bull— he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini, or the Twins— that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path— he gives a few fierce bites and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that's our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes Libra, or the Scales—happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us in the rear; we are curing the wound, when whang comes the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing himself. As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside! here's the battering-ram, Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt, he comes rushing, and headlong we are tossed; when Aquarius, or the Waterbearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and to wind up with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep. There's a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and the sun goes through it every year, and yet comes out of it all alive and hearty. Jollily

In contemporary Western society, buying a magazine on astrology - at a newsstand, say - is easy; it is much harder to find one on astronomy. Virtually every newspaper in America has a daily column on astrology; there are hardly any that have even a weekly column on astronomy. There are ten times more astrologers in the United States than astronomers. At parties, when I meet people that do not know I’m a scientist, I am sometimes asked “Are you a Gemini?” (chances of success, one in twelve), or “What sign are you?” Much more rarely am I asked “Have you heard that gold is made in supernova explosions?” or “When do you think Congress will approve a Mars Rover?” (...) And personal astrology is with us still: consider two different newspaper astrology columns published in the same city on the same day. For example, we can examine The New York Post and the New York Daily News on September 21, 1979. Suppose you are a Libra - that is, born between September 23 and October 22. According to the astrologer for the Post, ‘a compromise will help ease tension’; useful, perhaps, but somewhat vague. According to the Daily News’ astrologer, you must ‘demand more of yourself’, an admonition that is also vague but also different. These ‘predictions’ are not predictions; rather they are pieces of advice - they tell you what to do, not what will happen. Deliberately, they are phrased so generally that they could apply to anyone. And they display major mutual inconsistencies. Why are they published as unapologetically as sport statistics and stock market reports? Astrology can be tested by the lives of twins. There are many cases in which one twin is killed in childhood, in a riding accident, say, or is struck by lightning, while the other lives to a prosperous old age. Each was born in precisely the same place and within minutes of the other. Exactly the same planets were rising at their births. If astrology were valid, how could two such twins have such profoundly different fates? It also turns out that astrologers cannot even agree among themselves on what a given horoscope means. In careful tests, they are unable to predict the character and future of people they knew nothing about except their time and place of birth.

The question is can you cure the disease before it kills you? Once you set out consciously to cure the disease, as I did even before I knew the word cancer, you run the risk of catching it. Comprende? Whatever you set your mind to, your personal total obsession, this is what kills you. Poetry kills you if you’re a poet, and so on. People choose their death whether they know it or not.

¿Por qué tenían los holandeses, en tiempos de De Witt, almirantes en sus flotas balleneras? ¿Por qué Luis XVI de Francia equipó, de su propio peculio, naves balleneras en Dunquerque e invitó cortésmente a esa ciudad a unas veinte o cuarenta familias de nuestra isla de Nantucket? ¿Por qué pagó Inglaterra, entre los años 1750 y 1788, más de 1.000.000 de libras a sus balleneros, en concepto de remuneración? Y por fin, ¿cuál es el motivo por el cual nosotros, los balleneros de Norteamérica, superamos hoy en número a todos los demás balleneros del mundo, botamos una flota de más de setecientas naves, equipadas por dieciocho mil hombres, invertimos 4.000.000 de dólares por año, y el valor de las naves, en el momento de zarpar, es de veinte millones de dólares y cada año importamos a nuestros puertos una pingüe cosecha de 7.000.000 de dólares? ¿Cómo se explica todo esto, si no por algo poderoso que existe en la caza de ballenas?

HELENA: Proč jim nestvoříte duši? DR. GALL: To není v naší moci. FABRY: To není v našem zájmu. BUSMAN: To by zdražilo výrobu. Propánička krásná dámo, vždyť my to děláme tak lacino! Sto dvacet dolarů ošacený kus, a před patnácti lety stál deset tisíc! Před pěti lety jsme pro ně kupovali šaty; dnes máme vlastní tkalcovny, a ještě expedujeme látečky pětkrát laciněji než jiné továrny. Prosím vás, slečno Gloryová, co platíte metr plátna? HELENA: Nevím – – skutečně – – – zapomněla jsem. BUSMAN: Můj ty Tondo, a pak chcete zakládat Ligu humanity! Stojí už jen třetinu, slečno; všechny ceny jsou dnes na třetině a ještě půjdou níž níž níž, až – takhle. He? HELENA: Nerozumím. BUSMAN: Jemináčku slečno, to znamená, že práce klesla v ceně! Vždyť Robot i s krmením stojí za hodinu tři čtvrtě centíku! To je vám legrační, slečno: všechny továrny praskají jako žaludy, nebo honem kupují Roboty, aby zlevnily výrobu. HELENA: Ano, a vyhazují dělníky na dlažbu. BUSMAN: Haha, to se rozumí! Ale my, boží dobroto, my jsme zatím vrhli pět set tisíc tropických Robotů na argentinské pampy, aby pěstili pšenici. Buďte tak dobrá, co stojí u vás libra chleba? HELENA: Nemám ponětí. BUSMAN: Tak vidíte; teď stojí dva centíky v té vaší dobré staré Evropě; ale to je náš chlebíček, rozumíte? Dva centíky libra chleba; a Liga humanity o tom nemá tušení! Haha, slečno Gloryová, vy nevíte, co to je příliš drahý krajíc. Pro kulturu a tak dále. Ale za pět let, no tak vsaďte se! HELENA: Co? BUSMAN: Že za pět let budou ceny všeho na žádná celá deset. Lidičky, za pět let se utopíme v pšenici a všem možném. ALQUIST: Ano, a všichni dělníci světa budou bez práce. DOMIN (vstane): Budou, Alquiste. Budou, slečno Gloryová. Ale do desíti let nadělají Rossumovi Univerzální Roboti tolik pšenice, tolik látek, tolik všeho, že řekneme: Věci už nemají ceny. Nyní ber každý, kolik potřebuješ. Není bídy. Ano, budou bez práce. Ale pak nebude už vůbec žádné práce. Všechno udělají živé stroje. Člověk bude dělat jen to, co miluje. Bude žít jen proto, aby se zdokonaloval. HELENA (vstane): Bude to tak? DOMIN: Bude. Nemůže to být jinak. Předtím snad přijdou strašlivé věci, slečno Gloryová. Tomu se nedá prostě zabránit. Ale pak přestane služebnictví člověka člověku a otročení člověka hmotě. Nikdo už nebude platit za chléb životem a nenávistí. Ty už nejsi dělník, ty už nejsi písař; ty už nekopeš uhlí a ty nestojíš u cizího stroje. Už nebudeš své duše utrácet v práci, kterou jsi proklínal! ALQUIST: Domine, Domine! To, co říkáte, vypadá příliš jako ráj. Domine, bývalo něco dobrého v sloužení a něco velkého v pokoření. Ach Harry, byla nevímjaká ctnost v práci a únavě. DOMIN: Snad byla. Ale nemůžeme počítat s tím, co se ztratí, když předěláváme svět od Adama. Adame, Adame! už nebudeš jíst chléb svůj v potu tváře; už nepoznáš hladu a žízně, únavy a ponížení; vrátíš se do ráje, kde tě živila ruka Páně. Budeš svobodný a svrchovaný; nebudeš mít jiného úkolu, jiné práce, jiné starosti než zdokonalit sama sebe. Budeš pánem stvoření. BUSMAN: Amen.

Pocas plagas socavan tanto una sociedad como la hiperinflación, y el premio político para el que pudiese acabar con ella era enorme. Los diputados de la asamblea se habían asignado salarios a salvo de la inflación, vinculándolos al precio de 30.000 kilogramos de trigo. El Directorio abolió la Ley de Máximos, que mantenía los precios bajos en artículos como el pan, la harina, la leche o la carne, por lo que las malas cosechas de 1798 provocaron que una libra de pan alcanzase los 3 soles, por primera vez en dos años, y esto provocó acaparamiento, revueltas y una ansiedad general. Pero puede que lo peor de todo fuese que el pueblo no veía posibilidad de mejora, ya que las revisiones de la constitución debían ser ratificadas tres veces por ambas cámaras, en intervalos de tres años, y después por una asamblea especial para dar por cerrado un proceso que llevaba 9 años[19]. Esta situación no era susceptible de producirse en una legislatura tan fluctuante e inestable como la de finales de 1799, que incluía a realistas camuflados, Feuillants constitucionalistas –moderados–, antiguos girondinos, neojacobinos «patrióticos» y valiosos, pero escasos, partidarios del Directorio. En contraste, las constituciones que había impuesto Napoleón recientemente en las repúblicas Cisalpina, Veneciana, Ligur, Lemánica, Helvética y Romana, junto con sus reformas administrativas en Malta y Egipto, le mostraban como un republicano celoso y eficiente, que confiaba en el fuerte control ejecutivo y central, soluciones ambas que podrían dar buen resultado en la Francia metropolitana.