Quo Vadis Henryk Sienkiewicz Quotes

But I think happiness springs from another source, a far deeper one that doesn't depend on will because it comes from love.

Why does crime, even when as powerful as Cæsar, and assured of being beyond punishment, strive always for the appearances of truth, justice, and virtue? Why does it take the trouble?

If we repay evil with good, then how do we repay the good?

He who knew how to live should know how to die.

-Моето щастие мина, и радостта ми отмина, но аз не съм зла.

На този свят е по-лесно да намериш философ, отколкото добър съвет

A beautiful woman is worth her weight always in gold; but if she loves in addition, she has simply no price.

Youth is the one worthwhile treasure in this world, no matter how miserable the rest of life might be.

-¡Qué sociedad! -A tal sociedad, tal César.[...]

that the greater philosopher a man is, the more difficult it is for him to answer the foolish questions of common people;

For when a man is once in a book-shop curiosity seizes him to look here and there.

I know, 0 Caesar, that thou art awaiting my arrival with impatience, that thy true heart of a friend is yearning day and night for me. I know that thou art ready to cover me with gifts, make me prefect of the pretorian guards, and command Tigellinus to be that which the gods made him, a mule-driver in those lands which thou didst inherit after poisoning Domitius. Pardon me, however, for I swear to thee by Hades, and by the shades of thy mother, thy wife, thy brother, and Seneca, that I cannot go to thee. Life is a great treasure. I have taken the most precious jewels from that treasure, but in life there are many things which I cannot endure any longer. Do not suppose, I pray, that I am offended because thou didst kill thy mother, thy wife, and thy brother; that thou didst burn Eome and send to Erebus all the honest men in thy dominions. No, grandson of Chronos. Death is the inheritance of man; from thee other deeds could not have been expected. But to destroy one's ear for whole years with thy poetry, to see thy belly of a Domitius on slim legs whirled about in a Pyrrhic dance; to hear thy music, thy declamation, thy doggerel verses, wretched poet of the suburbs, — is a thing surpassing my power, and it has roused in me the wish to die. Eome stuffs its ears when it hears thee; the world reviles thee. I can blush for thee no longer, and I have no wish to do so. The howls of Cerberus, though resembling thy music, will be less offensive to me, for I have never been the friend of Cerberus, and I need not be ashamed of his howling. Farewell, but make no music; commit murder, but write no verses; poison people, but dance not; be an incendiary, but play not on a cithara. This is the wish and the last friendly counsel sent thee by the — Arbiter Elegantiae.

[...]"omul este ca un fluture: se încălzește la soarele favorurilor, iar la prima adiere mai rece piere... chiar dacă n-ar vrea!

Светът е измамен, а животът е илюзия. Трябва да имаш достатъчно ум за да различиш приятните от лошите илюзии.

It seemed that out of every tear of a martyr new confessors were born, and that every groan on the arena found an echo in thousands of breasts. Caesar was swimming in blood, Rome and the whole pagan world was mad. But those who had had enough of transgression and madness, those who were trampled upon, those whose lives were misery and oppression, all the weighed down, all the sad, all the unfortunate, came to hear the wonderful tidings of God, who out of love for men had given Himself to be crucified and redeem their sins. When they found a God whom they could love, they had found that which the society of the time could not give any one, -- happiness and love.

Quo Vadis

mandassero con lei il suo seguito, il

certain curiosity on that swarm of people and on that Forum Romanum, which both

Whoso does not play at dice will not lose property, but still people play at dice. There is in that a certain delight and destruction of the present.

What kind of God is this, what kind of religion is this, and what kind of people are these?

It seemed to him that there was nothing real in that religion, but that reality in presence of it was so paltry that it deserved not the time for thought.

All these are uncommon things, but does not the uncommon surround us on every side?

I know that in life I shall never find anything beyond what I have found; thou thyself knowest not that thou art hoping yet continually, and seeking.

Prostia, după cum spune Pyrrhon, nu-i deloc mai prejos decât înțelepciunea, de care nu se deosebește prin nimic.

PETRONIUS woke only about midday, and as usual greatly wearied.

The evening before he had been at one of Nero's feasts,

-Primejdie! Ne bălăcim cu toții în bezna morții, în ea dispare mereu câte un cap...

O śmierci nie warto myśleć, bo ona bez naszej pomocy o nas myśli.

Niech na twym niebie nie będzie chmur, a jeśli będą to niech mają kolor i zapach róży.

»Roma se tapa los oídos cuando te oye; y el mundo se ríe de ti.

¿Es ésta la nueva doctrina desconocida? Todo el mundo sabe eso: todo el mundo lo ha escuchado antes. Los cínicos han recomendado la pobreza y la restricción de las necesidades; Sócrates ha prescrito la virtud como una cosa antigua buena; el primer estoico a quien uno encuentra, si bien sea el propio Séneca -que tiene quinientas mesas de madera de limonero-, ensalza la continencia, recomienda la verdad, la paciencia en la adversidades, la fortaleza en el infortunio; y todo eso es como el trigo viejo, que se comen los ratones, pero que la gente rechaza porque huele mal.

I have no wish to know anything which may deform life and mar its beauty. Never mind whether our gods are true or not; they are beautiful, their rule is pleasant for us, and we live without care.

He walked with solemn attention, but with calmness, feeling that since the death on Golgotha nothing equally important had happened, and that as the first death had redeemed the whole world, this was to redeem the city.

More than once have I thought, Why does crime, even when as powerful as Cæsar, and assured of being beyond punishment, strive always for the appearances of truth, justice, and virtue? Why does it take the trouble? I consider that to murder a brother, a mother, a wife, is a thing worthy of some petty Asiatic king, not a Roman Cæsar; but if that position were mine, I should not write justifying letters to the Senate. But Nero writes. Nero is looking for appearances, for Nero is a coward. But Tiberius was not a coward; still he justified every step he took. Why is this? What a marvellous, involuntary homage paid to virtue by evil! And knowest thou what strikes me? This, that it is done because transgression is ugly and virtue is beautiful. Therefore a man of genuine æsthetic feeling is also a virtuous man. Hence I am virtuous.

Carinas was sent hither by Cæsar, who plundered cities and temples to fill the empty treasury. At the price of the sweat and tears of people, he is building the ‘golden house’ in Rome. It is possible that the world has not seen such a house, but it has not seen such injustice. Thou

Herd!" repeated Petronius, with contempt; "a people worthy of Cæsar!" And he began to think that a society resting on superior force, on cruelty of which even barbarians had no conception, on crimes and mad profligacy, could not endure. Rome ruled the world, but was also its ulcer.

Look at us! For us there are no partings, no pains, no sufferings; or if they come they are turned into pleasure. And death itself, which for you is the end of life, is for us merely its beginning,—the exchange of a lower for a higher happiness, a happiness less calm for one calmer and eternal.

Lumea se întemeiază pe înșelăciune, iar viața este o iluzie. Și sufletu-i o iluzie. Trebuie, totuși, să ai atâta minte ca să știi să deosebești iluziile plăcute de cele neplăcute. În hypocaustum, poruncesc să se ardă lemn de cedru presărat cu ambră, pentru că în viață prefer aromele, nu duhoarea.

If ever I have property and a house, like this, and slaves in such numbers as Vinicius, perhaps I shall be a Christian as long as may be convenient. For a rich man can permit himself everything, even virtue. This is a religion for the rich; hence I do not understand how there are so many poor among its adherents. What good is it for them, and why do they let virtue tie their hands?

I recognize, while yawning, the truth of what they say. We are mad. We are hastening to the precipice, something unknown is coming toward us out of the future, something is breaking beneath us, something is dying around us,—agreed! But we shall succeed in dying; meanwhile we have no wish to burden life, and serve death before it takes us. Life exists for itself alone, not for death.

While looking thus, his [Nero] glance rested on the Apostle [Peter] standing on the stone. For a while those two men looked at each other. It occurred to no one in that brilliant retinue, and to no one in that immense throng, that at that moment two powers of the earth were looking at each other, one of which would vanish quickly as a bloody dream, and the other, dressed in simple garments, would seize in eternal possession the world and the city.

O bordão cahira das mãos de Pedro ao solo; fixava a vista com pertinacia na frente; entre-abrira a bocca, e no rosto reflectia-se-lhe a estupefacção, a alegria, o arrobamento... Ajoelhou com as mãos estendidas. E dos labios sahiu-lhe o brado; - Christo! Christo!... Prostrou-se com a cabeça no chão, como se beijasse pés invisiveis. Durante muito tempo reinou absoluto silencio. Depois resoou a voz do velho entrecortada de soluços: - Quo vadis, Domine?... (...) - Visto abandonares o meu povo, vou a Roma... para que me crucifiquem outra vez. O Apostolo permanecia deitado no caminho, com o rosto no pó, sem fazer um gesto, nem dizer uma palavra. Nazario começava a pensar que Pedro perdera os sentidos, ou que expirara. Mas por fim levantou-se, agarrou com as mãos trémulas o cajado de romeiro, e, sem falar, voltou-se e contemplou as sete collinas. O rapazito repetiu então como um echo: - Quo vadis, Domine?... - A Roma, respondeu com doçura o Apostolo. E voltou para Roma.

O Petronius, thou hast seen what endurance and comfort that religion gives in misfortune, how much patience and courage before death; so come and see how much happiness it gives in ordinary, common days of life. People thus far did not know a God whom man could love, hence they did not love one another; and from that came their misfortune, for as light comes from the sun, so does happiness come from love....Thou didst say to me that our teaching was an enemy of life; and I answer thee now, that, if from the beginning of this letter I had been repeating only the three words, ‘I am happy!’ I could not have expressed my happiness to thee. To this thou wilt answer, that my happiness is Lygia. True, my friend. Because I love her immortal soul, and because we both love each other in Christ; for such love there is no separation, no deceit, no change, no old age, no death. For, when youth and beauty pass, when our bodies wither and death comes, love will remain, for the spirit remains. Before my eyes were open to the light I was ready to burn my own house even, for Lygia’s sake; but now I tell thee that I did not love her, for it was Christ who first taught me to love. In Him is the source of peace and happiness. It is not I who say this, but reality itself. Compare thy own luxury, my friend, lined with alarm, thy delights, not sure of a morrow, thy orgies, with the lives of Christians, and thou wilt find a ready answer. But, to compare better, come to our mountains with the odor of thyme, to our shady olive groves on our shores lined with ivy. A peace is waiting for thee, such as thou hast not known for a long time, and hearts that love thee sincerely. Thou, having a noble soul and a good one, shouldst be happy. Thy quick mind can recognize the truth, and knowing it thou wilt love it. To be its enemy, like Cæsar and Tigellinus, is possible, but indifferent to it no one can be. O my Petronius, Lygia and I are comforting ourselves with the hope of seeing thee soon. Be well, be happy, and come to us.

know not how the Christians order their own lives, but I know that where their religion begins, Roman rule ends, Rome itself ends, our mode of life ends, the distinction between conquered and conqueror, between rich and poor, lord and slave, ends, government ends, Cæsar ends, law and all the order of the world ends; and in place of those appear Christ, with a certain mercy not existent hitherto, and kindness, opposed to human and our Roman instincts. It is true that Lygia is more to me than all Rome and its lordship; and I would let society vanish could I have her in my house. But that is another thing. Agreement in words does not satisfy the Christians; a man must feel that their teaching is truth, and not have aught else in his soul. But that, the gods are my witnesses, is beyond me. Dost understand what that means? There is something in my nature which shudders at this religion; and were my lips to glorify it, were I to conform to its precepts, my soul and my reason would say that I do so through love for Lygia, and that apart from her there is to me nothing on earth more repulsive. And, a strange thing, Paul of Tarsus understands this, and so does that old theurgus Peter, who in spite of all his simplicity and low origin is the highest among them, and was the disciple of Christ. And dost thou know what they are doing? They are praying for me, and calling down something which they call grace; but nothing descends on me, save disquiet, and a greater yearning for Lygia.

Sei, divino Cesar, que me esperas com impaciencia e que, victima da fidelidade do teu coração, gemes com saudades minhas noite e dia. Sei que me accumularias de favores, que me offerecias ser prefeito da tua guarda e que nomearias Tigellino guardador de mulas, em qualquer das propriedades que herdaste, depois do envenenamento de Domicia - cargo para o qual parece ter sido creado pelos deuses. Mas, ai! tens de me desculpar. Pelo Hades e, em particular, pelos manes de tua mãe, de tua mulher, de teu irmão e de Seneca, juro-te que me é impossivel estar ao pé de ti. A vida é um thesoiro, meu amigo, e lisonjeio-me de ter sabido extrahir d'esse thesoiro as joias mais preciosas. Mas ha coisas na vida que sou incapaz de supportar durante mais tempo. Não vás pensar, conjuro-te, que me melindrou o assassinio de tua mãe, de tua mulher, de teu irmão, que me indignei com o incendio de Roma, que fiquei magoado com o processo que consiste em mandar para Erebo toda a gente honesta do teu Imperio... Não, meu caro neto de Chronos! A morte é a herança commum dos entes sublunares, e, demais, não havia maneira de procederes d'outra forma. Mas supportar, durante muitos annos ainda, o teu canto que me fere os ouvidos, vêr as tuas pernas domicianas - as tuas tibias descarnadas - saracotearem-se na dança pirrhyca, vêr-te representar, ouvir-te declamar, ouvir-te recitar poemas escriptos por ti, pobre poeta de feira!... ah! na verdade, semelhante perspectiva era superior ás minhas fôrças. E senti em mim a incoercivel necessidade de ir ter com os meus paes. Roma tapa os ouvidos, o universo cobre-te de gargalhadas. Não quero tornar a córar por tua causa. Não quero, não posso mais! O uivar de Cerbero, se se pudesse comparar com o teu modo de cantar, meu amigo, affligir-me-hia menos, porque nunca fui amigo de Cerbero e não tinha por dever envergonhar-me da sua voz. Tem saúde, mas deixa-te de canto; mata, mas não faças versos; envenena, mas não dances; incendeia cidades, mas abandona a cithara. Tal é o ultimo voto e o amigavel conselho que te dá o Arbitro das Elegancias.