Mare Nostrum Quotes

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The trader had told me that Mare Nostrum meant “Our Sea” in Latin, and I had marveled at the arrogance of Rome, which would dare to lay claim to the very elements of the earth. The goddess must have laughed at them, I’d thought. I certainly had.
Lesley Livingston (The Valiant (The Valiant, #1))
El Mediterráneo, el mar azul por excelencia, el gran mar de los hebreos; el mar de los griegos, el mare nostrum de los romanos; bordeado de naranjos, de áloes, de cactus, de pinos marítimos; embalsamado por el perfume de los mirtos, cercado por ásperas montañas, saturado de un aire puro y transparente e incesantemente trabajado y conmovido por los fuegos de la Tierra, es un verdadero campo de batalla, donde Neptuno y Plutón se disputan todavía el imperio del mundo. Allí, sobre sus costas y en sus aguas, dice Michelet, es donde el hombre se vivifica en uno de los más poderosos climas del globo.
Jules Verne (20.000 Leguas de Viaje Submarino (Spanish Edition))
This belief, tragically, turned out to be completely wrong. In the spring that followed the end of Mare Nostrum, more people attempted to cross the Mediterranean from Libya than during the equivalent period in 2014, which itself was a record year. And around eighteen times as many people died. Between January and April 2015, 28,028 people tried to reach Italy from Libya, according to the International Organization for Migration – compared with 26,740 in the first four months of 2014.2 And more than 1,800 died, compared with 96 the year before.
Patrick Kingsley (The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-First Century Refugee Crisis)
Mare Nostrum has given the Salt of the Sea.
Petra Hermans
Many predicted that deaths on the Mediterranean would rise after Italy’s Mare Nostrum marine rescue program was replaced by the much smaller European Triton border-patrol program at the start of this year. Mare
Anonymous
– Le centre de gravité de l’Europe va se déplacer. Vers le monde anglo-saxon et, finalement, vers l’Amérique. Vous voyez bien aujourd’hui comment la francophonie s’éteint à petit feu… La dérive nordique éloignera la France de son histoire originelle, de sa parenté affective, la Méditerranée – mare nostrum. J’étais fasciné par sa vaste culture et son sens de l’Histoire. Il me dit que, si elle se faisait, l’Europe de Maastricht se détournerait de l’Afrique. Seule une Europe latine pouvait comprendre et fixer les populations sur place. Comme ces paroles résonnent aujourd’hui ! Il me confia l’avoir répété à Roland Dumas : « Vous avez tort de soutenir ce sinistre traité. Il fera obstacle à ce que la Méditerranée puisse devenir, autour de la France, de l’Espagne et du Maroc, une zone d’équilibre, un lac de Tibériade, autour duquel les trois religions et les fils d’Abraham pourraient trouver des points d’harmonie et prévenir les grandes transhumances de la misère et de l’envie. » Le roi paraissait fort mobilisé sur ce sujet. Presque intarissable : – Vos élites sont ballotées sur des mers sans rivage, elles ont perdu toutes les boussoles. – De quelles boussoles parlez-vous ? – De celles qui nous conduisent dans l’espace et le temps : celles des cartes, des aiguilles et de la pérennité. La géographie, qui est la seule composante invariable de l’Histoire ; et la famille, qui en est le principe et la sève. Je ne vous envie pas. Il était redevenu le souverain impérieux. Me voyant surpris, il lâcha brutalement : – Vous parquez vos vieux. Dans des maisons de retraite. Vous exilez la sagesse. Vous avez aboli la gratitude, et donc l’espoir. Il n’y pas d’avenir pour un peuple qui perd ses livres vivants et n’a plus d’amour-propre. Qui abhorre son propre visage. Si vous ne retrouvez pas la fierté, vous êtes perdus. L’entretien dura encore quelque temps. Le roi Hassan II parlait beaucoup. Il se désolait de voir la France choir dans la haine de soi. Je n’ignorais pas qu’il dirigeait son pays d’une main de fer. Mais son amour sincère pour la France me toucha. Il répéta plusieurs fois le mot de Péguy : « Quand une société ne peut plus enseigner, c’est que cette société ne peut pas s’enseigner. »" pp. 146-147
Philippe de Villiers (Le moment est venu de dire ce que j'ai vu)
We’ll be outlaws as well as traitors,” Jason confirmed. “Any Roman demigod would have the right to kill us on sight. But I wouldn’t worry about that. If we get across the Atlantic, they’ll give up on chasing us. They’ll assume that we’ll die in the Mediterranean—the Mare Nostrum.” Percy pointed his pizza slice at Jason. “You, sir, are a ray of sunshine.
Rick Riordan (The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus, #3))
This is something that Europe’s chief border guard refuses to grasp. Fabrice Leggeri is the head of Frontex, the agency that patrols the borders of the European Union. Frontex sends agents to some of the land borders, and patrol boats to the maritime ones. A square-jawed former head of the French frontier police, Leggeri is ideal for the job. When the EU decided not to replace Mare Nostrum in October 2014, it claimed that Leggeri’s teams were more than able to pick up the slack in the southern Mediterranean, thanks to a Frontex operation there known by its codename of ‘Triton’. This was an inspired piece of window dressing. Unlike Mare Nostrum, Triton’s mandate was not to search for and rescue people. Its role was merely to patrol the continent’s nautical borders – in waters far to the north of where Italian ships used to station themselves during Mare Nostrum. It had fewer ships at its disposal, and a budget that was just a third of its predecessor’s. The assumption was that a smaller-scale border-patrol mission would indirectly save more lives.
Patrick Kingsley (The New Odyssey: The Story of the Twenty-First Century Refugee Crisis)
Scylla and Charybdis. From misremembering the Mythology lessons at St Peter’s School – unless it was at Copenhagen Street – I believed for a long time that these names referred to innocent rocky islets at the entrance to the Straits of Messina in Sicily. Two columns forming Italy’s southern gate, in this Mare Nostrum glorified by il Duce. And I thought that if pillars like these existed in London they would be, on the one hand, Clerkenwell, the Little Italy where we lay rotting, and then Soho, the capital’s other Italian neighbourhood, at once sulphurous and more dazzling.
Jean-Pierre Orban (The Ends of Stories)