Moebius Quotes

I often thought the most unfair thing about having Moebius wasn’t Moebius at all, but other people’s inability to define me by anything else.

...Yoo Jonghyuk glanced to his side before speaking again. “I have a companion already.” I doubted my ears for a moment. This bastard Yoo Jonghyuk… what was he doing now? [The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ appears late and looks around.] [The constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ is giggling at the situation.] [The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is astonished.] [The constellation ‘ Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is praying for the line to be spoken again.]

I hurriedly whispered towards Yoo Jonghyuk. “Hey, just say that you like him. Quickly.” “I don’t want to.” “Why? Hey, just close your eyes and do it once…” Nirvana shouted angrily when he saw me whispering. “Don’t whisper in front of me!” Then Yoo Jonghyuk spoke in a loud voice, “I’m not interested in men!” [The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ cries out for blood.] [2,000 coins have been sponsored.] Nirvana looked like he would puke. “I’m not a man!” [The constellation ‘Demon-like Judge of Fire’ is embarrassed.] “Of course, I’m not a woman either!

Science fiction transported me in an almost metaphysical way. I had the feeling that I was part of the great contemporary mystery, a human being, part of a global species, a planetary consciousness facing the stars.

Dr. C. informs me that, in technical terminology, Hal became trapped in a Hofstadter–Moebius loop, a situation apparently not uncommon among advanced computers with autonomous goal-seeking programs. He suggests that for further information you contact Professor Hofstadter himself.

Camera and event. Since its invention, film has seemed destined to make history visible. It has been able to portray the past and stage the present. We have seen Napoleon on horseback and Lenin on the train. Film was possible because there was history. Almost imperceptibly, like moving forward on a Moebius strip, the side was flipped. We look on and have to think: if film is possible, then history too is possible.

No matter how cleverly we disguise our anxieties they bear witness to the imperfect nature of the human heart. To be is to become. To become is not to be. We are a work-in-progress, incomplete, imperfect, unrealised, and by virtue of temporal actions, temporary - a verb more than a noun, an inner quest and an outward odyssey framed by metaphors, like Escher's "Print Gallery"; we make the endless journey round the pictures, retracing our steps in forgetfulness, avoiding but mindful of the space where there are no pictures, where there is no gallery, where there is nothing at all. And like flies in a fly bottle, trapped by a failure of vision, we go round and round and round the moebius loop of a print gallery of our own making, a picture inside a picture inside a picture, forever.

This situation conflicted with the purpose for which Hal had been designed—the accurate processing of information without distortion or concealment. As a result, Hal developed what would be called, in human terms, a psychosis—specifically, schizophrenia. Dr. C. informs me that, in technical terminology, Hal became trapped in a Hofstadter—Moebius loop, a situation apparently not uncommon among advanced computers with autonomous goal-seeking programs. He suggests that for further information you contact Professor Hofstadter himself.

Nei bar in cui non si poteva nè leggere nè piangere. Quando guardavi indietro sembrava poi tutto sacro. Quando a separarci prima c’era una parete e adesso ci sono due rampe di scale con un eco fortissimo che si ripetono le parole per due volte tutte intere ma i nostri silenzi infiniti. Sprechiamo ancora qualcosa ma assieme, non come i tuoi giri di quando cadevi sempre in scooter. Per immaginarla mi metto degli occhiali da sole anche se non ce n’è bisogno, per il colore della sua pelle che è più scuro. Per resuscitare in un altro bar alle sette di sera. Queste grandiose solitudini, e questi scavi archeologici per mettersi a scrivere sulle tastiere di pianoforti affittati che suonano da anni nei pianobar. Mi ricordi quel personaggio di Moebius che è vestito di un cielo stellato. Uscendo dalla metropolitana non riuscivo mai a capire in che punto sarei arrivato in superficie, in quale degli incroci. Vedevo solo questo rettangolo di cielo che difficilmente era colorato. Poi subito ti travolgevano se ti guardavi troppo attorno ma era bello lo stesso. Se dentro siamo fatti siamo fatti di minerali. E il nostro lato instabile è un cerchio. se l’ametista delle nostre iridi e il piombo delle nostre viscere si fondessero, sai che freddo amore mio d’inverno a mettersi a volare.

In spits of your name, you do not seem to know who you are.

Aprecio que nuestra historia es como una cinta de Moebius, infinita y repetitiva.

It is a truly superb allegory, this story of the Golden Temple: the allegory of evil's revenge, of destruction as the only way out from beauty and the excess of beauty. But not just beauty. Evil can also befall intelligence. Intelligence protects us from nothing - not even from stupidity. Being intelligent is not enough, then, to prevent one from being stupid, and sometimes intelligence even lives in stupidity's shade, and vice versa. Not only does intelligence not mark the end of stupidity, there is no other way out from excess of intelligence but stupidity. In keeping with an implacable reversibility, stupidity lies in wait for it, as its shadow, as its double. Only thought, only lucidity, which stands as much opposed to intelligence as to stupidity, can escape this trial of strength. But there is no rule, no more for good than for evil: they chase each other endlessly around the Moebius strip. Given the hellish production of collective intelligence, we shall have to reckon in the future with an ever-higher rate of artificial stupidity.

I want a destiny that includes another’s. I want destinies that collide. That meld like soap bubbles. That are all encompassing. And I want the other destiny to have the same desires as mine. They need to feed off of each other like a moebius strip of starving cannibals. -Clerin Toswin

Know that you're not alone, you've never been alone, you're never going to be or could ever be. This Divine Laughter has always been with you, and is always a part of you. Even if you haven't seen it or recognized it, there was that Divine Presence. It is our own illusion and confusion which leads to a separate feeling from the Divine. Now let yourself feel that the Divine laughter is flowing into that illusion and confusion. Everything is a metaphysical riddle, a tender, endless grin rising like a Moebius strip of a pair of lips touching themselves.

I’ve had Moebius syndrome my whole life, and here is what I’ve learned: the only people arrogant enough to use the words I understand are the ones who can’t possibly understand. People who truly get it never say much of anything.

There is a paradigm shift. A moebius space, time a ball, I, a bed of nails. I sleep a dreamless sleep, and the others sleep with me. Then, there is a light from all around, its source intangible, its touch the lifting of a blanket in a fridge.