Roma Quotes

To have and to hold, where even death cannot part us,’ Juliette whispered. ‘In this life and the next,’ Roma returned, ‘for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours.

I was raised in hatred, Roma. I could never be your lover, only your killer.

Don’t you dare,” Roma said. “Don’t you dare fall apart now, dorogaya.

They speak of Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai as the ones who dared to dream. And for that, in a city consumed by nightmares, they were cut down without mercy.

Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

These violent delights have violent ends, you have always known this.

I said I wanted you dead," Roma confirmed. "I never said I didn't love you

I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.

You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hat you and then you give me a reason to love you. Is this a lie or the truth? Is the a ploy or your heart reaching for me?

Your life," he seethed. "Is not a game of luck". "Since when," Juliette spat, "did you care about my life?' "I don't." He was trembling with fury. "I hate you". And when Juliette didn't recoil, Roma kissed her.

Don't miss," Roma said. "I never do," Juliette replied

Together or not at all, doragaya

I made a vow to you, Roma.’ She took a step forward. No one stopped her. ‘Where you go, I go. I will not bear a day parted. I will take a dagger to my own heart if I must.

You’re fluent in Russian and that’s the best you could come up with?” Roma asked, flabbergasted. “What is a Montague? It sounds Italian.” “There are Italian Communists!” “Not in Shanghai!

This is why my betrayal was so terrible. Because you believed me incapable of hurting you, and yet I did.

I hate you, what he really meant was I love you. I l still love you so much that I hate you for it

If Roma were ever again to run a tender finger down her spine, it would be to count her vertebrae and gauge where he could stab his knife in.

You destroy me and then you kiss me. You give me a reason to hate you and then you give me a reason to love you. Is this a lie or the truth? Is the a ploy or your heart reaching for me?

moya doragaya, I love you, I love you

If the human soul has an afterlife, has a will, then his would be here for rest, and Alisa has no doubt that Juliette's would follow.

Roma wasn’t sure if Benedikt and Marshall were fated to eventually kill each other or kiss each other.

How are you this bad?" Juliette asked in disbelief. "I thought you were Russian." "I am Russian, not an alcoholic," Roma muttered.

My darling, darling Juliette

Roma was not afraid. He only feared the power of others. Monsters and things that walked the night were strong, but they were not powerful. There was a difference.

Why do you pause?” Juliette mimicked bitterly. Softly, she set him down, brushing his mussed hair out of his face. “Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

Juliette embraced danger with open arms. It seemed that Roma couldn’t do so even when his whole world was at risk, even while Alisa was strapped down by her arms and legs.

What are you afraid of?' Roma Montagov asked. Juliette's lips parted. She exhaled a short, abrupt breath. 'The consequences,' she whispered, "of love in a city ruled by hate.

You are a liar, Juliette Cai," he said. "You lied to me until I wanted you dead

Science could tell him that the ground was below his feet and the sky was above his head and the early light of day was upon his back. Roma wouldn't listen. To him, Juliette was the sun.

Mă amăgesc. Poate toată viaţa n-am făcut decât să mă amăgesc. Şi tu ai să fii cea mai grea amăgire a mea.

Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.

Once you have been tortured, you can never belong in this world. There is no place that ever be your home.

What a face this girl possessed!—could I not gaze at it every day I would need to recreate it through painting, sculpture, or fatherhood until a second such face is born.

Roma Montagov kicks a chair. “God—” “—dammit,” Juliette Cai finishes with a whisper, far across the city.

«Respira Roma, Lewis, domani sarà già diversa, domani ci sarà anche il tuo odore, fra cento anni lo sentiranno ancora, qui nulla si perde.»

Keep fighting for love.

Grey has no agenda. . . . Grey has the ability, that no other colour has, to make the invisible visible.

She wished she could fill herself up like this. She wished she could press mounds of rich soil into the gaps of her heart, occupying the space until flowers could take root and grow roses. Maybe then she wouldn't be hearing Roma's voice in her head over and over again, taking up every inch of her thoughts

Amelia, if we have children… will you mind that they're part Roma?" "Not if you don't mind that they're part Hathaway.

A long time ago, Roma had told Juliette that her anger was like a cold diamond. It was something she could swallow smoothly, something to be placed upon other people, gliding along their skin in glitter and glamour before they realized far too late that the diamond had sliced them into pieces. He had admired her for it. Mostly because his own anger was the precise opposite—an uncontrollable wave of fire that knew no subtlety.

Under the low-hanging light of the moon, Roma was a black-and-white study of sorrow.

At this distance between them that she had willingly manufactured, because they had been born into two families at war, and she would rather die at Roma’s hand than be the cause of his death.

It is important for women to do something about what they see.

Tú no eres de esos. Tú no le robas el corazón a la gente, tú les recuerdas que lo tienen.

So we are never to change?" she asked. "We are forever blood-soaked roses?" Roma took her hand. Pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "A rose is a rose, even by another name," he whispered. "But we choose whether we will offer beauty to the world, or if we will use our thorns to sting.

Setiap orang punya ruang dan tempat tersendiri. Mereka yang pergi dan datang tak akan pernah bisa saling menggantikan

Todas las carreteras llevan a Roma, pero mucha gente todavía piensa que solo hay una forma de llegar allí, su propio camino, y si no lo seguimos, todos nos perderemos.

Hello, stranger

We love WWII because the cause was so obviously just, because you can't be a good person and say you wouldn't fight against an evil like that. It was so black and white on our side, and on our side so few died. (Our side meaning the lantern-jawed John Wayne Greatest Generation constantly canonized soldiers who strode in late to the graveyard that was Europe. Compared to Jewish, Russian, Roma, and other casualties, our losses were minimal.) We felt so strong. In some ways I think we're always trying to recapture that feeling of being a country of superheroes. With every war we invoke that one, we hope it will be that good. -from her blog

Tutt'intorno a noi scorreva la città di Roma, splendida nella sua indifferenza, eternamente sicura di sé, felice di prendersi i nostri soldi e posare per una foto, ma senza avere alla fin fine bisogno di niente e di nessuno.

Yunan, Roma ve Avrupa tarihini kendimizi bilmek ve anlamak için öğrenmeliyiz; çünkü biz onun içindeyiz.

Roma tidaklah dibangun dalam waktu sehari. Begitu juga sebuah jalan kereta api. Atau hal-hal lain yang menyenangkan dalam hidup ini. - Charles Ingalls

Here she was, harboring this pulsating lump of hatred burning in her stomach that had only gotten hotter and hotter in the years she had been robbed of a confrontation, an explanation, and yet still she did not have the courage to sink her knife right into Roma's chest, to get revenge in the only way she knew how.

War rages on, and the city tells the tale of Roma and Juliette like some folk song passed between rickshaw runners on their breaks. They speak of Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai as the ones who had dared to dream. And for that, in a city consumed by nightmares, they were cut down without mercy.

It was only that every time she looked at Roma, she didn’t want to stop looking; she wanted to sit down beside him and bid him never to leave her, to listen to him talk forever and ever and ever.

He reminded me of Gerald Roma from grade school, who used to burn ants with a magnifying glass. He was never quite right. It was weird that he spontaneously combusted during finals week our freshman year in college. Payback was a bitch.

Once, a long time ago, at the back of a library while a storm raged on outside, Juliette had asked Roma, “Do you ever imagine what life would be like if you had a different last name?” “All the time. Don’t you?” Juliette had thought about it. “Only sometimes. Then I consider all that I would miss out on without it. What would I be if I weren’t a Cai?” Roma had lifted onto his elbow. “You could be a Montagov.” “Don’t be ridiculous.

It’s Juliette Montagova.” She lifted her hand and waved her fingers, flashing her gold wedding ring while she continued onward and exited the living room. “I’m a married woman. Roma, come help me get the knives, would you?” In that moment, as Roma pushed off the wall and followed her obediently, he fell in love all over again.

I take you, Juliette Cai," Roma whispered in concentration, "to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until..." He looked up as he finished the knot. Paused. When he spoke again, he did not look away. "No, scratch that. To have and to hold, where even death cannot part us. In this life and the next, for however long our souls remain, mine will always find yours. Those are my vows to you.

Mereka yang mengerjakan sesuatu dari hati, karyanya akan memiliki jiwa.

Juliette wouldn’t dare because no matter how big her talk was, she still couldn’t separate the hatred broiling in her stomach with the sudden lurch of adrenaline that came to life with his proximity. If her body refused to forget who Roma once was to her, how was she to make those same limbs rebel from their nature, make them destroy him? “Penny for your thoughts?

Sometimes a scent is more evocative than a photo or an image. It is a primer for the deflagration of sensation, emotions, desires, uncontrollable atmospheres, dejavus that flood and wrap us like honey, until they make us drown in an unrepeatable moment of wellbeing... olfactory hallucinations that lead us anywhere: to the North of any South, to the East of any West...

I would have found you anywhere.” He reached forward. Tugged that piece of her hair, then tucked the curl behind her ear. “Across the world and under it. No matter how well you hide. It doesn’t matter where you go. I’ll always find you. Understand?

La belleza no está reñida con la inteligencia. Y yo tengo la suerte de tener ambas. Pero hablemos de ti. En tu caso la belleza te ha sido concebida... pero la inteligencia brilla por su ausencia.

In politics, reality and appearance are of equal importance. You cannot attend to one and neglect the other. A man must determine both what he is, and what others believe him to be.

Roma Montagov wasn’t the heir scheming in the shadows anymore. It seemed that he was sick of the city seeing him as the one slitting throats in the dark, the one with a heart of coal and the clothing to match.

but here, with his pulse thudding through his chest and beating an even rhythm onto hers, he was just a boy, just a bloody, beating heart that could be cut out at any moment by a blade sharp enough

I mourned,” Roma said just as softly. “I mourned for months, years outside the gates of the cemetery. Yet I don’t regret choosing you. No matter how cruel you think yourself, your heart beats for your people. That’s why you shot him. That’s why you took the chance. Not because you are merciless. Because you have hope.” Juliette looked up. If Roma turned, even the slightest, they would be nose to nose. “I regret that I was ever put in the position to choose,” Roma continued. His words were faint, whispered into the world while the streets roared with sirens, the building beside them teemed with chaos, and policemen along every street corner screamed for order. But Juliette heard him perfectly. “I hate that the blood feud forced my hand, but I can’t—I did what I had to do and you may think me monstrous for it. The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn’t stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.

The strands (the gods) weave out of our mortal lives are like a pattern visible only from the heavens; we here on earth can only guess at their designs

Ebbene signor Meis, il destino di Roma è l’identico. I papi ne avevano fatto – a modo loro, s’intende – un’acquasantiera; noi italiani ne abbiamo fatto, a modo nostro, un portacenere.

Really?" Juliette demanded through the glass door. "You climbed my house? You couldn't have simply thrown a few pebbles?" Roma looked down into the gardens below, "You don't have any pebbles.

Benché aborri la guerra, sono Shayl’n Til, cresciuta sulle strade polverose di Roma, se minacciano me o ciò che mi è caro, non mi tiro indietro: mi difendo e combatto. E al diavolo la lucidità.

No," Roma finally said. "Then we would not have met. Then I would have lived an ordinary life, pining for some great love I would never find, because ordinary things happen to ordinary people, and ordinary people settle for something that satisfies them, never knowing if there would have been greater happiness in another life." His voice was rough, but it was certain. "I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.

El orgullo y los halagos con frecuencia nublan nuestra razón.

Touched by an Angel' started my calling to be the messenger, and on a weekly basis, I was able to deliver the message of God's love to the world.

...there are places that don't belong to geography but to time.

Aku hanya perlu satu. Keberadaanmu. Di sisiku...

Nadie escucha la verdad cuando las mentiras son más interesantes.

Porque los deseos que más importan son los que nunca se pronuncian en voz alta y, aun así, alguien te los concede.

Has there ever been a country that, once colonized, avoided civil war?

Ne diyebilirdim ki, bu kentin tarihi konusunda tam bir cahildik. Bırakın Yunan, Roma dönemini, Osmanlı dönemi hakkında bile hiçbir şey bilmiyorduk. Bütün bu bilgisizliğimize rağmen, lafa geldi mi, utanıp sıkılmadan, şanlı ceddimiz diye nutuk atmaya bayılıyorduk.

iría viendo cómo se iba haciendo chiquita la ciudad de méxico   y adiós ángel de la independencia   y adiós caballito   y adiós monumento a la revolución ¿verdad?

The feud keeps taking and hurting and killing and still I couldn't stop loving you even when I thought I hated you.

Criticar al César no es criticar a Roma. Criticar a un gobierno no es criticar al país. •Carlos Fuentes, al reportero Guillermo Ochoa, Excélsior, 4 de marzo de 1969

I'm scared." "We all are," Roma said. "But we fight anyway.

Recuérdalo siempre, hijo mío: Roma eres tú.

I am in love with you,” he declared. It was only for practice, yet his face turned red nonetheless. This was ridiculous. He was fifteen. He could be more suave than this. Roma didn’t know much, but he knew that he had fallen too hard and he had fallen too fast. If he didn’t speak now he might never have a chance, because this city was brutal to dazzling things walking its streets, and Juliette was the most dazzling of them all.

1.--ARMA virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam, fato profugus, Laviniaque venit litora, multum ille et terris iactatus et alto vi superum saevae memorem Iunonis ob iram; multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem, inferretque deos Latio, genus unde Latinum, Albanique patres, atque altae moenia Romae.

[Sigmund Freud] era un perfecto cretino. [Estaba] equivocado en las interpretaciones exclusivamente sexuales que daba a los símbolos, los sueños y los secretos ocultos de nuestro subconsciente. ¡Vamos, vamos! Pensar que quien sueñe con la aguja de una catedral o con el obelisco de Trajano en Roma está expresando anhelos relacionados con el órgano viril... ¡ésa no puede ser más que la interpretación de un obseso!

Jalan menuju Tuhan sama dengan jalan menuju Roma, Rahwana. Pada akhirnya semua jalan akan menuju Roma. Demikian pula jalan menuju Tuhan. Ada yang melalui jalur filosofis, ada yang melalui jalur cinta. Ada yang reflektif, ada yang afektif. Ada yang religius, ada yang altruis...

The soul mate we marry can become an "ex," but the soul mates we have in our children will be ours forever, until the end of our life.

yo creo que a mí no me tocó destino o si me tocó se me perdió en el camino

Men like Caesar and Pompey--they're not heroes, Meto. They're monsters. They call their greed and ambition "honour," and to satisfy their so-called honour they'll tear the world apart. But who am I to judge them? Every man does what he must, to protect his share of the world. What's the difference between killing whole villages and armies, and killing a single man? Caesar's reasons and mine are different only in degree. The consequences and the suffering still spread to the innocent (Gordianus the Finder to his son Meto)

En aquel momento pensé que sería la noche más importante de nuestra vida. Tal vez lo fue. Épica porque pusimos un pie en el cielo gracias a nuestros labios. Épica porque sin saberlo también lo hicimos en el infierno. La hora de que el chico que vivía en las sonrisas ajenas brillase como una estrella.

Ella estaba sentada en la cumbre de una colina, contemplando Roma. El sol de la tarde volvía oro las estructuras de la ciudad. -Jamás pensé que llegaríamos a este lugar-dijo ella. -Y yo tuve fe en que lo haríamos. Él tomó la mano de ella y le plantó un beso. -¿Todo ha terminado? -Por ahora-respondió él.

Quien ha hecho cosas suficientemente importantes es consciente de que podría haberlas hecho mejor y de que ha cometido numerosos errores que podría haber evitado. Sólo el soberbio irredento cree que volvería a hacerlo todo igual.

Podía tener todo lo que estuviera en venta y ese era el problema. Tener la capacidad de poseer cualquier cosa en la que se posasen mis ojos le restaba valor a la realidad, eliminaba la emoción.

Juliette would have accepted the burden of playing dead if it meant safety for those she loved most. She and Roma were the same that way. It was their greatest flaw and their greatest strength at once, and she doubted that would ever change.

He felt a psychosomatic rush of emptiness before he spoke. “Since we are getting to the real point, I am not stupid John. And it would be foolish to think me ignorant. Isn’t this about the Science Nation interview? Isn’t this because I mistakenly used the word “soul?” Isn’t this about you and the others thinking somewhere along the lines, I had gained an imaginary soul? We all know when you gain a soul, you lose a mind. Don’t we john?” John hesitated briefly staring at Roma. “I believe so yes. Souls are luxuries for speculative minds. Real scientists can’t afford such luxuries. They have the world to save.” Roma narrowed his eyes. “Or destroy.

La puta, la gran puta, la grandísima puta, la santurrona, la simoníaca, la inquisidora, la falsificadora, la asesina, la fea, la loca, la mala; la del Santo Oficio y el Índice de Libros Prohibidos; la de las Cruzadas y la noche de San Bartolomé; la que saqueó Constantinopla y bañó de sangre Jerusalén; la que exterminó a albigenses y a los veinte mil habitantes de Beziers; la que arrasó con las culturas indígenas de América; la que quemó a Segarelli en Parma, a Juan Hus en Constanza y a Giordano Bruno en Roma; la detractora de la ciencia, la enemiga de la verdad, la adulteradora de la Historia; la perseguidora de judíos, la encendedora de hogueras, la quemadora de herejes y brujas...

Si de algo estoy seguro es de que a estas alturas necesito tus labios para sobrevivir. Sálvame, por favor.

...algún día dejaré de tener fuerza de voluntad, devoraré tus labios, me comeré tu sonrisa, y que nadie me culpe si dejo sin luz al mundo.

Kids will remember less what we did for them and more how we spoke and reacted to them.

los bárbaros construyen sus casas separadas, y los hombres civilizados, juntas.

Let people pray to God, it’s nothing to me. Some good may even come of it, if goodness is something that matters to you. Trap him in churches if you must, and lament him there. But Roma? Roma is a weapon used against us. A poison flavoured sweet and given to hungry men.

I am Russian, not an alcoholoic. -Roma Montagov

[...] ma a Roma un uomo onesto era un uomo raro: cioè un cretino.

Ho permesso loro di conoscere il sapore della sua bocca, la morbidezza delle sue carni, la melodia dei suoi gemiti. (Maksim-La mia vendetta con te ©Giovanna Roma)

Ardí como hacían los cristianos en la antigua Roma y morí por segunda vez en ese día, en que la fortuna simplemente no me era favorable.

si fueris Romae, Romano vivito more; si fueris alibi, vivito sicut ibi [if you should be in Rome, live in the Roman manner; if you should be elsewhere, live as they do there]

Together or not at all, dorogaya,” Roma whispered back. “I’m with you if we run. I’m with you if we fight.

hic sacra domus carique penates, hic mihi Roma fuit.

Omnia Romae venalia sunt. Hell has its price!

Pro medicina est dolor, dolorem qui necat.” “The pain that kills pain acts as medicine,” Win translated. “That would make sense only to a Roma,” Amelia said, and Cam grinned.

Power is never worth it! You keep making trades upon trades, and you get nothing in return. Roma is running from it. Juliette is running from it. What makes you think you can handle

España, evangelizadora de la mitad del orbe; España, martillo de herejes, luz de Trento, espada de Roma, cuna de San Ignacio, esa es nuestra grandeza y nuestra unidad... no tenemos otra

fingirte cobarde y no serlo, puedes fingirte torpe y no serlo. Lo único importante es la victoria final. Da igual que te llamen cobarde. No entres en combate hasta que creas que puedes ganar.

Roma bruciava di sole, quel giorno, e le cupole sembravano più tonde che mai dentro il sole, le foglie più verdi, la dolcezza più dolce. Ma lei partiva senza rammarico perché erano ventisei anni che mangiava cupole e verde e dolcezza e ormai aveva fame di grattacieli, di grigio, di guerra.

A perception of empire is found in an early Christian acrostic. An acrostic is a word made up of the first letters of each word in a phrase or sentence. In this case, the phrase is an early Christian saying in Latin: radix omnium malorum avaritia. Radix means “root,” omnium means “all,” malorum means “evil,” and avaritia means “avarice” (or “greed”). Putting it together, it says, “Avarice (or greed) is the root of all evil.” And the first letters of each word produce Roma, the Latin spelling of Rome. It makes a striking point: Roma - empire - is the embodiment of avarice, the incarnation of greed. That’s what empire is about. The embodiment of greed in domination systems is the root of all evil.

Stai per vedere la meraviglia, my lord." "Penso di averla già vista." Non importava quante piazze ci sarebbero state in seguito, quante statue, scalinate, chiese, dipinti o palazzi straordinari ci avrebbero atteso alla fine di quel buio; quel suo sorriso sarebbe stato sempre una bestemmia urlata in faccia a Dio, o all'arte, e niente avrebbe mai potuto essere più bello. Roma era solo una degna cornice.

Quizás Roma no se construyó en un día, pero imagina lo que los ingenieros podrían haber alcanzado si hubieran tenido un libro llamado Cualquier Persona Puede Construir Roma, Construir Roma para Tontos, o Construir Roma en Un Mes.

Despite the huge crowd, He speaks to His disciples as though no one else is there.

Some say art is our highest form of hope. . . . Perhaps it's our only hope.

It is impossible not to make mistakes during a war.

Listening to our kids with an open heart & mind is the strongest way to build a relationship with them - especially when they're wrong.

¿Es que diréis acaso con toda sinceridad que preferís el gesto suicida de Leónidas a la brillante estrategia de Temístocles?

«Quien nace mortal camina hacia la muerte».

We honor our kids most when, while we guide or discipline them, we give them this gift of unconditional love by accepting them and respecting them for who they are, first and foremost.

Pero el tiempo pasa muy deprisa y las personas somos finitas. —Señaló el cementerio en el que estábamos—. No dejes que el rencor te obligue a llorar frente a una tumba, porque podrás dejarte el alma y, aun así, descubrirás que las piedras son frías, no abrazan y, por más que lo intentes, nunca te responden.

¿Y qué sucederá si el premio no vale la pena? Nunca vale la pena. Pero ninguno lo hacemos por eso. Corremos contra nosotros mismos. Soy capaz y voy a hacerlo. Pero es solo a mí a quién importa.

Roma’s eyes flared. “You’re saying Einstein was even more wrong?” Retina shook his head. “Einstein was acting within physical bounds. I’m talking invisible, not visible light. Can we factor in the speed of invisible light?” Roma shook his head. “What are you saying?” “We’re always limited by the scope of our senses, our perceptions and its scientific perfections. But in this parallel we call universe there are scopes beyond our perceptive realities or possible realities. Einstein was not wrong but was limited in scope. There is a realm beyond our visible spectrum where time is imperceptible because space is without measure. And in that realm, matter and energy are not intricately related. Matter has no form and is ill recognizable as essence or existence. Energy is all there is.” Roma held a frown. “Who’s been feeding you that Spiritualist crap?” “Dr. Ian Skript, the most renowned Spiritualist scientist I know.

La buena literatura nunca había tenido por objeto ser un ejemplo o eco de la vida real, sino que estaba hecha para abstraer al lector momentáneamente de la vida, liberando su mente de consideraciones para posibilitar su solaz con el glorioso lenguaje de vívidas composiciones de palabras en forma de ideas imaginarias o fantasiosas.

But don’t be mistaken, Juliette.” His eyes swiveled to her slowly. That once-familiar stare was now fathomless, and Juliette’s breath caught in her throat, stilling like a creature in the headlights. She was ready. She knew what he would say. But it still tore into her, it still stung as mightily as razor wire wrapped around her heart, both ends pulled until it could wrap no tighter. “When this is over, I will have my revenge. You will answer to me for what you did.

Políticos egoístas, corruptos y con frecuencia imbéciles, que se aprovechan de una grave crisis bélica o generada por una gran enfermedad, que buscan aprovecharse de esas terribles circunstancias para, o bien llegar al poder, o bien mantenerse en él sin importarles lo más mínimo las consecuencias que su ambición personal pueda tener en la población que gobiernan —

Jesus' simple poetic words are delivered casually and gently. Jesus prefers to explain a difficult concept over time, never talking down to His followers, patiently letting the words soak in until they understand them fully.

Don’t get me wrong, marriage is good. Good for other people.” “Oh, honey, I can’t wait till it’s your turn. You are going to be so fun to watch when you fall in love.” “That may just be the meanest thing you have ever said to me.

Senza riflettere spronò il baio per abbracciare, con intento di morte, l’orda degli avversari. Quando i bructeri superstiti videro il romano con la lorica muscolata, il mantello rosso svolazzante e la spada sguainata precipitarsi su di loro, verso il suicidio, si eccitarono al punto da perdere ogni prudenza, dimenticando tutti i morti dietro di loro. Aquilato fece abbassare gli archi dopo un ultimo tiro e poi fu lui a ordinare la carica. I Batavi seguirono il romano. Quel folle romano.

Un gobernador de Sicilia especialmente notorio afirmó que un hombre necesitaba ejercer el cargo durante tres años: el primero para pagar sus deudas, el segundo para hacerse rico y el tercero para reunir los recursos necesarios para sobornar al juez y al jurado en el inevitable juicio por corrupción que seguiría tras su regreso a Roma. La

You were teeny tiny like a baby tomato. But you've gotten so big! And you're going to keep growing until you're bigger and stronger and taller. So instead of thinking about dying, how about you think about how awesome it is to be alive? Dad can't run right now, but you can. Dad can't jump right now, but Roma can! Before you die you get to LIVE!

I doubt you have a penny on you,” Juliette finally replied. Reluctantly, she took a step forward and raised her hand; Roma did the same. They didn’t need to speak to make the complementing gesture. They had always known how to predict what the other was about to do. “Indeed, but I have plenty of larger bills. Would you offer more thoughts for those

CAPT. J. W. SIMMONS, master of the steamship Pensacola, had just as little regard for weather as the Louisiana’s Captain Halsey. He was a veteran of eight hundred trips across the Gulf and commanded a staunch and sturdy ship, a 1,069-ton steel-hulled screw-driven steam freighter built twelve years earlier in West Hartlepool, England, and now owned by the Louisville and Nashville Railroad Company. Friday morning the ship was docked at the north end of 34th Street, in the company of scores of other ships, including the big Mallory liner Alamo, at 2,237 tons, and the usual large complement of British ships, which on Friday included the Comino, Hilarius, Kendal Castle, Mexican, Norna, Red Cross, Taunton, and the stately Roma in from Boston with its Captain Storms. As the Pensacola’s twenty-one-man crew readied the ship for its voyage to the city of Pensacola on Florida’s Gulf Coast, two men came aboard as Captain Simmons’s personal guests: a harbor pilot named R. T. Carroll and Galveston’s Pilot Commissioner J. M. O. Menard, from one of the city’s oldest families. At

Te obligaría a besarme hasta que me lanzases con tus labios a las estrellas.

No hay que medir la altura de una montaña hasta que se llega a la cumbre. Entonces verás que no era tan alta como pensabas.

Eran muchos años combatiendo juntos y la intimidad concede el derecho a compartir silencios largos sin sentirse incómodos

I have always loved the expression it’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness because it's about hope.

We are our own children's "perfect" parents, and within us lie all the simple, yet profound qualities of inner perfection.

If you're using most of your energy to do stuff for your kids, then you'll have that much less energy to just be there for them.

I don't yhink, I'm in love. But I know I'm in love with you, Felice....

I don't think, I'm in love. But I know I'm in love with you, Felice....

There is nothing so unsure as the plans we make that rely on the sensible behavior of another human being.

Los dioses nos dan a los enanos unos centímetros de más aquí abajo para compensar los que nos quitan de altura.

Live is too short. Hurry up and finish that boook!

Sólo los malvados o los imbéciles ponen la política por delante en tiempos de grave crisis.

A veces solo hace falta que una persona crea que eres único para que tú también te veas así.

We can easily teach our kids hot to be kind, compassionate and respectful when we are kind, compassionate and respectful to them.

I still identify as Black. Not because I believe Blackness, or race, is a meaningful scientific category but because our societies, our policies, our ideas, our histories, and our cultures have rendered race and made it matter. I am among those who have been degraded by racist ideas, suffered under racist policies, and who have nevertheless endured and built movements and cultures to resist or at least persist through this madness. I see myself culturally and historically and politically in Blackness, in being an African American, an African, a member of the forced and unforced African diaspora. I see myself historically and politically as a person of color, as a member of the global south, as a close ally of Latinx, East Asian, Middle Eastern, and Native peoples and all the world’s degraded peoples, from the Roma and Jews of Europe to the aboriginals of Australia to the White people battered for their religion, class, gender, transgender identity, ethnicity, sexuality, body size, age, and disability. The gift of seeing myself as Black instead of being color-blind is that it allows me to clearly see myself historically and politically as being an antiracist, as a member of the interracial body striving to accept and equate and empower racial difference of all kinds.

This is the essence of faith, isn’t it? To keep hold of the knowledge that this isn’t the end, that there is a promise of heaven, that God can redeem even the most difficult circumstances.

Here is this! Here is this! Ecco Roma! Bursting out of the sun, streaking through space, skirting Venus, just over eight minutes old, but eternal, too, infinite—here comes the light, nameless and intangible, streaming 93 million unobstructed miles through the implacable black vacuum to break itself against a wall, a cornice, a column. It drenches, it crenellates, it textures.

They knew where they were headed but they didn’t know where they were going. Retina shrugged the thought. Roma complained about the possibility they were walking into a trap. After all, he was one of the scientists that decided Solstice’s fate. Retina was adamant no one knew him. Lorenzo didn’t care about anything much but reaching Zharfar after Retina surgically removed his Unicell Groper. They were headed to Africa in what seemed a semi commercial private plane. Eight people including the pilots travelled. They weren’t supposed to know any more particulars. But Lorenzo’s watch placed the coordinates in both numbers and words. They were in West Africa, country Nigeria, state Osun, and township Isura. None of them had ever heard of it, the town, but they were there. And they had travelled for miles, over highly forested nonresidential areas and mountain peaks before they stopped. Wherever they were going was greatly isolated, Roma thought.

[A Chinese Restaurant.] Roma is seated alone at the booth.Lingk is at the booth next to him.Roma is talking to him. * * * Roma: . . . Eh? What I’m saying, what is our life? (Pause.) It’s looking forward or it’s looking back. And that’s our life. That’s it. Where is the moment? (Pause.) And what is it that we’re afraid of? Loss. What else? (Pause.) The bank closes. We get sick, my wife died on a plane, the stock market collapsed . . . the house burnt down . . . what of these happen . . . ? None of ’em. We worry anyway. What does this mean? I’m not secure. How can I be secure? (Pause.) Through amassing wealth beyond all measure? No. And what’s beyond all measure? That’s a sickness. That’s a trap. There is no measure. Only greed. How can we act? The right way, we would say, to deal with this: “There is a one-in-a million chance that so and so will happen. . . . Fuck it, it won’t happen to me. . . .” No. We know that’s not the right way I think. (Pause.) We say the correct way to deal with this is “There is a one-in-so-and-so chance that this will happen . . . God protect me. I am powerless, let it not happen to me. . . .” But no to that. I say. There’s something else. What is it? “If it happens, AS IT MAY for that is not within our powers, I will deal with it, just as I do today with what draws my concern today.” I say this is how we must act. I do those things which seem correct to me today. I trust myself. And if security concerns me, I do that which today I think will make me secure. And every day I do that, when that day arrives that I need a reserve, (a) odds are that I have it, and (b) the true reserve that I have is the strength that I have of acting each day without fear. (Pause.) According to the dictates of my mind. (Pause.)

En la antigua Roma, dice la Hermana Justiciera, en el Coliseo, el "editor" era el hombre que organizaba los deportes sangrientos que eran la forma principal de mantener a la gente pacificada y unida. De ahí es de donde viene realmente la palabra "editor". Hoy día, nuestro editor planea el menú de asesinatos, violaciones, incendios provocados y asaltos que hay en la portada del periódico del día.

many impressions to seize and hold, familiar loved façades, balconies, windows, water lapping the cellar steps of decaying palaces, the little red house where D’Annunzio lived, with its garden—our house, Laura called it, pretending it was theirs—and too soon the ferry would be turning left on the direct route to the Piazzale Roma, so missing the best of the Canal, the Rialto, the further palaces.

me di cuenta de que   ps no sé   de que sí la estaba haciendo ¿no? de   que sí la estoy haciendo   de que en realidad hago lo que quiero y cuando quiero   y eso   ps yo creo que eso es la felicidad ¿no? hacer lo que quieras y cuando lo quieras hacer ¿verdad?   sin más pedos      claro   a veces me canso   a veces sí me harto   como todo el mundo   y entonces sí me dan ganas de mandar todo a la chingada 

When he played that violin for us, I thought about his stories and the history he talked of, about paintings I had seen and books I had read. His violin made a smoky, mysterious sound. I heard it in the explosions of chestnuts cooking on a brazier at the edge of a river, and horses clopping across cobblestones in Siena and Florence, and also the rustle of leaves that fell on Garibaldi's troops as they marched. The violin sang 'Roma o morte,' and it wailed for the mountains of dead in an American Civil War across the sea, and for Paris glittering with the Second Empire. It rose and fell with voices reading Victor Hugo aloud by whale oil, and it sang about dynamite, about Ottomans and Englishmen falling under their horses in the Crimea, and the feet of crowds shuffling through international expositions. Above all, Stoyan's violin sang about places - places its maker had been, places the teacher of its maker had been, places its current owner would someday see, and the many, many places where he would someday perform on it.

Tan difícil resulta la moderación en la defensa de la libertad: mientras se simula pretender la igualdad, cada uno se encumbra a sí mismo a costa de rebajar al otro, y mientras se busca evitar el temor, uno se convierte a sí mismo en temible, y la injusticia que rechazamos de nosotros mismos se la inflingimos a otros, como si no hubiera más alternativa que cometerla o padecerla. Historia de Roma desde su fundación

Cam restored her clothing slowly, his strong hands lifting her from the beech. Crushing her close, he muttered something incomprehensible against her hair. Another spell to bind her, she thought hazily, her cheek pressed to his smooth, hard chest. “You’re speaking in Romany,” she mumbled. Cam switched to English. “Amelia, I—” He stopped, as if the right words eluded him. “I can’t stop myself from being jealous, any more than I can stop being half Roma. But I’ll try not to be overbearing. Just say you’ll be my wife.” “Please,” Amelia whispered, her wits still scattered, “let me answer later. When I can think clearly.” “You do too much thinking.” He kissed the top of her head. “I can’t promise you a perfect life. But I can promise that no matter what happens, I’ll give you everything I have. We’ll be together. You inside me … me inside you.

(i pittori) hanno sempre qualcosa al tempo stesso di artigianale e creativo, mentre lo scrittore che non sia geniale è spesso un piccolo borghese. Insomma, il pittore è sempre artista, lo scrittore solo qualche volta.

Ho bevuto fino a impazzire, mi sono stordita con le droghe a sedici anni, sono sgattaiolata fuori con uomini adulti per andare all’ultimo spettacolo del Fillmore East, ho vissuto nuda nelle comuni e ho rubato. Ho scritto la mia tesi sul suicidio nella poesia contemporanea americana lavorando come barista mentre mi facevo scopare sul tavolo da biliardo nel retro. Sono stata un’assistente in una clinica per schizofrenici a Chelsea e capogruppo in un centro d’accoglienza per senzatetto sulla Trentesima. Ho seguito le tracce di Giovanna d’Arco in Francia, preso un treno per Roma a mezzanotte e indossato tacchi a spillo per una lesbica italiana feticista della pelle. Ho preso acidi per tre giorni sul treno da Montréal a Vancouver, dove ho passato una notte con un famoso musicista jazz musulmano che mi ha sedotto con il suo sassofono e le sue invocazioni predicatorie. Ho trovato il modo di entrare in campi di accoglienza per vittime di stupro in Bosnia, ho indossato il burqa nell’Afghanistan dei talebani, ho guidato caricata a caffè attraverso le strade minate del Kosovo. Dovevo vedere, sapere, toccare, trovare l’orecchio. Forse stavo inscenando la mia cattiveria, o cercando la mia bontà, o avvicinandomi alla disumanità più profonda per provare a capire come sopravvivere al peggio di cui siamo capaci. Poi sono andata in Congo, ed è là che tutto è andato in frantumi. Là, dove, in un solo colpo, i peggiori atti di crudeltà incontravano la più pura gentilezza. Ero arrivata fin là.

y es que el amor pues como que es una cosa de dos personas o más si se quiere pero que no debe salir de esas dos o tres o seis personas porque a nadie le puede interesar a nadie le debe interesar ¿verdad? lo que esas personas hagan con sus vidas privadas

İkimiz de güldük. "Sally" dedim, "senin sevdiğim yanın ne biliyor musun? Bu kadar kolayca kandırılabilmen. Hiç kandırılamayan insanlar öylesine can sıkıcı ve ruhsuz oluyorlar ki!" "Beni hâlâ seviyor musun, Chris, sevgilim?" "Evet, Sally. Seni hâlâ seviyorum." Onu bir daha görmedim. Yaklaşık iki hafta sonra, tam onu aramam gerektiğini düşündüğüm bir sırada, Paris'ten bir kart aldım: "Buraya dün gece geldim. Yarın doğru dürüst yazarım. Kucak dolusu sevgiler." Arkadan mektup gelmedi. Bundan bir ay sonra Roma'dan bir kart daha aldım. Adres yoktu: "Bir iki güne kadar yazarım." diyordu. Bu altı yıl önceydi. Şimdi ben ona yazıyorum. Sally, bunu okuduğun zaman -eğer bir gün okuyacak olursan- lütfen bunu bir takdirname- sana verebileceğim en yürekten takdirname olarak kabul et...

Este mundo es falso, está repleto de ilusiones, mentiras y celos. Te distorsiona hasta que tú mismo desapareces. Necesitas a la gente real, a la de antes, a la que te recordará quién eres. La fama te lo da y te lo arrebata todo. —Se puso de pie—. No menosprecies la realidad por unos focos que hacen que lo que te rodea brille. Intentarán convencerte de lo contrario y fingirán que es por tu bien, cuando en el fondo lo único que no soportarán es que no estés tan podrido como ellos, que tengas lo único que el dinero no puede comprar.

–¿Por qué te comparas? –Se puso serio. –¿Acaso no es inevitable? –Claro. Me lo has repetido mil veces. La envidia infecta las plantas y queremos crecer. Las cosas son como son y no como nos gustaría. Hay que aceptar la realidad, ¿no? –Me parafraseó y se quedó pensativo antes de añadir–: Puedes alegrarte de que diez personas hayan venido por ti o pasarlo mal porque a otro vayan a verlo mil. Con la primera serás feliz y con la segunda sufrirás y no merece la pena porque el resultado es el mismo cuando es algo en lo que tú no mandas.

I’ve found that it is in those very moments of darkness that God can come in. In the dark is when His light can shine the brightest. For when we are struggling, unable to hold it all together, is when we surrender. And that is when He can finally pick us up and carry us.

Modern dünyanın adaletsizliklerine en büyük korumayı sağlayan, bu adaletsizliklerin doğru olduğunu değil, kaçınılmaz olduğunu ileri süren görüştür; "Her zaman zenginler ve fakirler olacaktır," ya da "Her zaman üste çıkacak birileri olacaktır." Eski Roma'da insanların şöyle dediklerine eminim: "Kalabalıkları birbirlerini öldüren gladyatörleri seyretmekten alıkoyamazsınız; ne yapalım, insan doğası böyle. Demek istediğim, birbirini kılıçla doğramak yerine, birbirine gol atmaya çalışan insanları seyrederek eğlenecek bir toplum asla olmayacak! Böyle bir şeye siz inanabilir misiniz?

Y ya he dado término a una obra que ni la ira de Júpiter ni el fuego, ni el hierro, ni el tiempo devorador podrán destruir. Ese día, que, sin embargo, no tiene poder más que sobre mi cuerpo, pondrá fin cuando quiera al incierto espacio de mi existencia; pero yo volaré, eterno, por encima de las altas estrellas con la parte mejor de mí, y mi nombre persistirá imborrable. Y allá por donde el poder de Roma se extienda sobre las tierras sometidas, los labios del pueblo me leerán, y por todos los siglos, si algo de verdad hay en las predicciones de los poetas, gracias a la fama yo viviré.

Roma è sovrastata da un cielo livido di temporale, che lascia qua e là dei varchi per far passare enormi fasci luminosi creando una luce artificiale che pennella i palazzi di oro sgargiante. Una vecchia baldracca imbellettata, ecco quello che è questa città: una puttana a fine carriera, ancora bellissima se la guardi di sera alla luce fioca delle candele, ma rivoltante se te la trovi di fianco al mattino, senza trucco e senza voglia. Ma proprio per questo si prende il lusso di sbatterti fuori a calci, per piangere da sola davanti allo specchio. [Emilia Bianchetti, Tramonti d'occidente, p.12]

Alì dagli Occhi Azzurri uno dei tanti figli di figli, scenderà da Algeri, su navi a vela e a remi. Saranno con lui migliaia di uomini coi corpicini e gli occhi di poveri cani dei padri sulle barche varate nei Regni della Fame. Porteranno con sè i bambini, e il pane e il formaggio, nelle carte gialle del Lunedì di Pasqua. Porteranno le nonne e gli asini, sulle triremi rubate ai porti coloniali. Sbarcheranno a Crotone o a Palmi, a milioni, vestiti di stracci asiatici, e di camicie americane. Subito i Calabresi diranno, come da malandrini a malandrini: «Ecco i vecchi fratelli, coi figli e il pane e formaggio!» Da Crotone o Palmi saliranno a Napoli, e da lì a Barcellona, a Salonicco e a Marsiglia, nelle Città della Malavita. Anime e angeli, topi e pidocchi, col germe della Storia Antica voleranno davanti alle willaye. Essi sempre umili Essi sempre deboli essi sempre timidi essi sempre infimi essi sempre colpevoli essi sempre sudditi essi sempre piccoli, essi che non vollero mai sapere, essi che ebbero occhi solo per implorare, essi che vissero come assassini sotto terra, essi che vissero come banditi in fondo al mare, essi che vissero come pazzi in mezzo al cielo, essi che si costruirono leggi fuori dalla legge, essi che si adattarono a un mondo sotto il mondo essi che credettero in un Dio servo di Dio, essi che cantavano ai massacri dei re, essi che ballavano alle guerre borghesi, essi che pregavano alle lotte operaie... ... deponendo l’onestà delle religioni contadine, dimenticando l’onore della malavita, tradendo il candore dei popoli barbari, dietro ai loro Alì dagli Occhi Azzurri - usciranno da sotto la terra per uccidere – usciranno dal fondo del mare per aggredire - scenderanno dall’alto del cielo per derubare - e prima di giungere a Parigi per insegnare la gioia di vivere, prima di giungere a Londra per insegnare a essere liberi, prima di giungere a New York, per insegnare come si è fratelli - distruggeranno Roma e sulle sue rovine deporranno il germe della Storia Antica. Poi col Papa e ogni sacramento andranno su come zingari verso nord-ovest con le bandiere rosse di Trotzky al vento...

Los duelos de bestias salvajes siempre abrían las festividades matutinas. Hoy, en primer lugar había un combate entre un elefante y un rinoceronte. Este último terminó sacando un ojo a su rival con el cuerno. Pensé que podría haber vivido muy feliz sin necesidad de saber cómo sonaba el grito de un elefante.

Questa luce, cioè la storia, è spietata; essa ha questo di strano e di divino, e cioè che quantunque sia luce, e precisamente perché è luce, mette spesso dell'ombra là dove si vedono raggi; dello stesso uomo fa due fantasmi differenti, e l'uno attacca l'altro, e ne fa giustizia, e le tenebre del despota lottano con lo splendore del capitano. Da qui, una misura più vera nell'apprezzamento definitivo dei popoli. Babilonia violata diminuisce Alessandro; Roma incatenata diminuisce Cesare; Gerusalemme uccisa diminuisce Tito. La tirannia segue il tiranno. E' una sventura per un uomo lasciare dietro di sé dell'ombra che ha la forma sua.

Dimitri, astoundingly, shifted as if to drop the infant. The movement was so unpredictable and sharp that both Koschei and Roman stumbled forward, panicked, and the baby Lev began to cry in earnest, wailing with his little hands curled into fists. “Dima!” Koschei roared in anger, snatching Lev from his eldest son’s hands and pressing him close to his own chest, protective at last over the fragility of his newest son. “You would have dropped him!” “No,” Dimitri corrected, laughing his clever warrior’s laugh, “because you wouldn’t have let me, Papa. Nor would Roma,” he added, gesturing over his shoulder to where Roman had stumbled forward, nearly falling over himself in his effort to keep the baby aloft. “Because we are all brothers,” Dimitri explained, and Roman blinked, watching Koschei’s eyes widen with understanding. “Because, Papa,” Dimitri finished, reaching out to let the crying Lev reach for his fingers, soothing him gently, “we are all your sons.

Te pinto suave. —Colocó la punta sobre mi pectoral y trazó una línea recta. Y, desde entonces, supe que el verbo pintar era mi favorito, para nosotros significaba amar—. Te pinto fuerte. —Lo hizo con más potencia—. Te pinto con todos los colores. —Abrió los botes y metió los dedos para recorrer mi torso con las yemas—. Te pinto con todo mi ser. —Se quitó la sudadera y la camiseta y se embadurnó de pintura antes de impactar contra mí—. Te pinto porque soy tuya. —Deslizó sus dedos desde el tatuaje con los pájaros que volaban hasta mi corazón, anclándolos a él—. Y te pintaré siempre. Siempre, ¿me has entendido? Porque tú eres mi color favorito.

-Çünkü biraz teşvik edildiğinde, suskunluğundan sıyrılıp, insanın ağzını bir karış açık bırakarak, ince bir derin bilgiyle donanmış, Latin ve Yunan klasiklerini yalayıp yutmuş, Roma mimarlığından, barom resimden, atonal müzikten ve yeni romandan söz etmeyi ustalıkla kıvırabilen biri olduğunu koyuyordu ortaya. O zaman, kendisi, büyük bir özenin ve berraklığın egemen olduğu gizli bir bahçede tek başına ve hayran hayran dolaşırken, sizde, olayların akışı ile paranın ve gücün egemenliğine boyun eğerek benzerlerinizle birlikte kaba ve iğrenç bir dünyaya ait olduğunuz gibisinden dayanılmaz bir duygu yaratıyordu.- O, Theobald ya da Kusursuz Cinayet

Ankara Kalesi'ne çıktım. ....... Buraya çıkarken gördüklerimizle hangi medeniyetlere, hangi çağlara gitmeyiz? Fakat hayır, Ankara bu cinsten tarihi bir hulyaya kolay kolay imkan vermiyor. Burada tek bir vak'a, tek bir zaman, tek bir adam muhayyileye hükmediyor. Bu şehir kendisini o kadar ona vermiş ve onun olmuş. Eti arslanı, Roma sütunu, Bizans bazilikasından kalma taş, Timurlenk ve Yıldırım muharebesi, hepsi sizi dönüp dolaşıp yirmi yıl evvelin çetin günlerine ve şifarlı ağrılarına götürüyor, onun tabii neticesi olan büyük meselelerle karşılaştırıyor. Bu o kadar böyle ki, Ankara, İstiklal Mücadelesi yıllarından bütün mazisini yakara çıkmış denebilir.

El orgullo de llegar hasta el final. Certezas. Cuando te despojas de las creencias que te endilgan las institutrices, los colegios y los Estados, descubres dentro de ti verdades indelebles. Roma entrará en decadencia y volverá a caer, Cortés se hará de nuevo a la mar y después Ewing también, Adrian volverá a saltar en pedazos, tú y yo volveremos a dormir juntos bajo las estrellas corsas, regresaré a Brujas, de nuevo me enamoraré y me desenamoraré de Eva, tú leerás otra vez esta carta y el sol volverá a apagarse. Un disco en el gramófono de Nietzsche. Cuando termine, el Viejo lo pondrá una vez más, y así una eternidad de eternidades. El tiempo no consigue penetrar en este periodo sabático. No duramos mucho muertos. Una vez que la Luger me deje partir, mi nuevo nacimiento caerá sobre mí en un abrir y cerrar de ojos. Dentro de trece años volveremos a conocernos en Gresham, diez años después estaré en esta misma habitación, empuñando la misma pistola, escribiendo esta misma carta, una decisión tan consumada como mi sexteto de mil cabezas. Estas certezas elegantes me reconfortan.

As every close observer of the deadlocks arising from the political correctness knows, the separation of legal justice from moral Goodness –which should be relativized and historicized- ends up in an oppressive moralism brimming with resentment. Without any “organic” social substance grounding the standards of what Orwell approvingly called “common decency” (all such standards having been dismissed as subordinating individual freedoms to proto-Fascist social forms), the minimalist program of laws intended simply to prevent individuals from encroaching upon one another (annoying or “harassing” each other) turns into an explosion of legal and moral rules, an endless process (a “spurious infinity” in Hegel’s sense) of legalization and moralization, known as “the fight against all forms of discrimination.” If there are no shared mores in place to influence the law, only the basic fact of subjects “harassing other subjects, who-in the absence of mores- is to decide what counts as “harassment”? In France, there are associations of obese people demanding all the public campaigns against obesity and in favor of healthy eating be stopped, since they damage the self-esteem of obese persons. The militants of Veggie Pride condemn the speciesism” of meat-eaters (who discriminate against animals, privileging the human animal-for them, a particularly disgusting form of “fascism”) and demand that “vegeto-phobia” should be treated as a kind of xenophobia and proclaimed a crime. And we could extend the list to include those fighting for the right of incest marriage, consensual murder, cannibalism . . . The problem here is the obvious arbitrariness of the ever-new rule. Take child sexuality, for example: one could argue that its criminalization is an unwarranted discrimination, but one could also argue that children should be protected from sexual molestation by adults. And we could go on: the same people who advocate the legalization of soft drugs usually support the prohibition of smoking in public places; the same people who protest the patriarchal abuse of small children in our societies worry when someone condemns a member of certain minority cultures for doing exactly this (say, the Roma preventing their children from attending public schools), claiming that this is a case od meddling with other “ways of life”. It is thus for necessary structural reasons that the “fight against discrimination” is an endless process which interminably postpones its final point: namely a society freed from all moral prejudices which, as Michea puts it, “would be on this very account a society condemned to see crimes everywhere.

With biting solemnity he spoke. “What are you holding on to as Mara? Why are you holding on to what does not exist and was once known? Why not let her be dusts to the winds of Teracia, insignificant in the eyes of what Atheists believe?” Teracia was home to the American Spiritualist headquarters and a very large expanse of forestry. Roma, to keep Mara’s last wishes had visited Teracia, against his Atheist believes, to spread her ashes so her soul may roam free. What soared through Roma was more sadness than anger in the moment. But the anger was enough to push him head first into Retina. “How dare you? You stupid son of a bitch…Ahh!” The force that took Roma forward took them over the compliant material that was the railing and they became subject to gravity. The impact resisting, antigravity flooring broke the majority of their fall. And as Roma traveled the approximately fifteen inches resistance flight back in the air, “I’ll kill you,” he told Retina. While Retina was silently thanking Dr. Hunter, a QueXtgen scientist who had just saved their lives without knowing it, for the scientific design of the house, “I’ll kill you…” Roma said as his body touched the floor, before losing consciousness.

Cam reached for her left hand. Taking the signet ring between his fingers, he drew it off easily and gave it to her. “Here. Although I’d rather you left it on.” Amelia’s mouth fell open. She examined her hand, then the ring, and hesitantly pushed it back on the same finger. It slid over her knuckle and back again with ease. “How did you do that?” “I helped you to relax.” He ran a coaxing hand along her spine. “Put it back on, Amelia.” “I can’t. That would mean I’ve accepted your proposal, and I haven’t.” Stretching like a cat, Cam rolled her flat again, his weight partially supported on his elbows. Amelia drew in a quick breath as she felt him still firm within her. “You can’t lie with me twice and then refuse to marry me.” Cam lowered his head to kiss her ear. “I’ll be ruined.” He worked his way to the soft place behind her earlobe. “And I’ll feel so cheap.” Despite the seriousness of the matter, Amelia had to bite back a smile. “I’m doing you a great favor by refusing you. You’ll thank me for it someday.” “I’ll thank you right now if you’ll put the damned ring back on.” She shook her head. Cam pushed a bit farther inside her, making her gasp. “What about my personal endowments? Who’s going to take care of them?” “You can take care of them”— she squirmed to the side to set the ring on the bedside table—“ all by yourself.” Cam moved with her obligingly. “It’s much more satisfying when you’re involved.” As he reached to retrieve the ring, his body shifted higher in hers. She tensed in surprise. He felt harder inside her, thicker, his desire gaining new momentum. “Cam,” she protested, glancing at the closed door. She grabbed for his wrist, trying to keep his hand away from the ring. He grappled with her playfully, turning until they had completed a full revolution across the mattress and she was under him again. He was rampantly aroused now, teasing her with slow lunges. Twisting beneath him, Amelia pushed at his dark head as he began to kiss her breasts. “But … we just finished…” Cam lifted his head. “Roma,” he said, as if by way of explanation, and settled back over her.

When I was a boy, my grandfather taught me the list of kings: Romulus, Numa Pompilius, Tullus Hostilius, Ancus Marcius, Tarquinius the Elder, Servius Tullius. Tarquinius the Proud was to be the last, the very last, cast out and replaced forever by something called a republic. A mockery! A mistake! An experiment that failed! Today is the republic’s final day. Tomorrow, men will shout in the Forum, ‘All hail King Coriolanus!

The winged human glanced towards Retina briefly. “It’s okay Dr. Blade. Scientists should never be blown away from the nature of facts.” Roma smiled. “And by scientists, are you one?” “That is dependent on your opinion Dr. Hill. I’m well versed by Dr. Sangha.” Roma moved towards him, narrowing his eyes. “It is my opinion that no respectable scientist will allow himself to be a subject of ridicule by turning in his human DNA to become a freak, a beast or whatever the hell it is you think you are.” The winged human was unaffected. “I’m sure Dr. Hill that freak or beast doesn’t apply.” Roma drew his head back slightly, studying the demeanor of the winged human. “What’s your name?” “I’m Seganus,” he replied humbly. Roma moved a little closer to him wearing a deep frown. “You don’t think the word freak or beast applies?” “No. I don’t think so.” “Is that the carnivorous beaks of the Titanis Walleri I see on you?” “No.” “Can you hold the 360 Degrees field of view of the Woodcock.” “No.” “The long bills of the Australian Pelican?” “No.” “Do you lay the large eggs of the Ostrich?” “Dr. Hill,” Retina cautioned. Lorenzo seemed amused by the situation. He was smiling. “No,” Seganus replied. Roma continued. “Then you’ll say you don’t have those qualities birds posses?” “No.” “You’ll say you’re human?” Seganus blinked before he spoke. “Yes.” Roma moved closer to him. “Then why the freaks are you wearing wings?

Yeye shifted in her seat as Roma stared down at her angrily. “There are inter-realm laws I must abide by, that the soul must abide by as well when it comes to an appointed manifestation. Whoever was in the world before can not go into the new world. That identity must be forsaken. It must—” “Forsaken or forgotten?” Roma barked. “Forsaken,” Yeye answered. “Unless you’re putting this soul into a blank state like that of a child, it can not be forgotten. It has to be forsaken. That’s the rule or you get no soul.” “So you’re telling me that this soul will remember but will never be able to be that person it was?” Roma asked. “I’m telling you a new memory must be formed with absolutely no reference to the previous.” “What the freak is that?” Roma asked, visibly agitated. “You can form new memories while holding on to preexisting ones.” Yeye stood. “Yes Roma, you’re right. But you can also form new memories while you are unable to access the previous ones.” “Such it would have a drive that belongs to it but would never be able to access or be forbidden to access it?” Roma asked. Yeye’s voice was low. “I’m afraid that’s the way it is going to have to be.” Roma shook his head vehemently. “Exactly which way is that Yeye. Exactly which way is that in common terms?” Yeye spoke in her most resolute tone yet. “You will never be able to know whether or not this soul is Mara.” Roma gained silence, breathing in and out rapidly. “We’re getting out of this damned Zharfar,” he said as he stormed out.

A mí, Hasan, hijo de Mohamed el alamín, a mí, Juan León de Médicis, circuncidado por la mano de un barbero y bautizado por la mano de un papa, me llaman hoy el Africano, pero ni de África, ni de Europa, ni de Arabia soy. Me llaman también el Granadino, el Fesí, el Zayyati, pero no procedo de ningún país, de ninguna ciudad, de ninguna tribu. Soy hijo del camino, caravana es mi patria y mi vida la más inesperada travesía. Mis muñecas han sabido a veces de las caricias de la seda y a veces de las injurias de la lana, del oro de los príncipes y de las cadenas de los esclavos. Mis dedos han levantado mil velos, mis labios han sonrojado a mil vírgenes, mis ojos han visto agonizar ciudades y caer imperios. Por boca mía oirás el árabe, el turco, el castellano, el beréber, el hebreo, el latín y el italiano vulgar, pues todas las lenguas, todas las plegarias me pertenecen. Mas yo no pertenezco a ninguna. No soy sino de Dios y de la tierra, y a ellos retornaré un día no lejano. Y tú permanecerás después de mí, hijo mío. Y guardarás mi recuerdo. Y leerás mis libros. Y entonces volverás a ver esta escena: tu padre, ataviado a la napolitana, en esta galera que lo devuelve a la costa africana, garrapateando como mercader que hace balance al final de un largo periplo. Pero no es esto, en cierto modo, lo que estoy haciendo: qué he ganado, qué he perdido, qué he de decirle al supremo Acreedor? Me ha prestado cuarenta años que he ido dispersando a merced de los viajes: mi sabiduría ha vivido en Roma, mi pasión en el Cairo, mi angustia en Fez, y en Granada vive aún mi inocencia.

¿Sabes cuándo realmente me fallan las malditas rodillas y siento que tengo que hacer todo lo que esté en mi mano para merecerte? Cuando hablas, mierda, cuando lo haces. A veces pienso que no tendré vida suficiente para todas las conversaciones que quiero tener contigo. –Se pasó una mano por el pelo–. Y nunca he creído en Dios ni en la fuerza del universo, pero cuando veo cómo tratas a Jeremy, tu bondad, les doy gracias a ambos por haberte colocado en mi camino. Mierda, ¡si me lo pidieran hasta me pondría de rodillas! –Se detuvo–. ¡Y me siento impotente cuando me doy cuenta de que no te valoras, como si me matases sin piedad cada vez que te reprimes! Por eso me voy, porque hace tiempo que me prometí a mí mismo que me alejaría de cualquiera que te hiciese daño. Y esa persona ahora mismo eres tú.

Zekice bir kitap yazmışsın, Bon-Bon,” diye devam etti Majesteleri, dostumuzun omzuna, o verilen emri tam anlamıyla yerine getirdikten sonra bardağını bırakırken hafifçe, bilgiç bir tavırla vurarak. “Kesinlikle zekice bir kitap. Tam benim sevdiğim türden bir eser. Ancak özdeğe ilişkin tasarımın geliştirilebilir ve fikirlerinin pek çoğu bana Aristoteles’i anımsatıyor. O filozof en yakın tanıdıklarımdan biriydi. Onu hem korkunç huysuzluğundan, hem de pot kırmak gibi eğlenceli bir yönünden dolayı severdim. Bütün o yazdıkları arasında tek bir somut gerçek var ki, onun ipucunu da kendisinin absürdlüğünü sevdiğim için ben verdim. Pierre Bon-Bon, hangi yüce ahlâki gerçekten bahsettiğimi biliyorsun sanırım, değil mi?” “Bildiğimi söyleyemem –” “Evet! – Aristoteles’e insanların hapşırırken gereksiz fikirleri burunlarından dışarı attığını söyleyen bendim.” “Bu –hık!– gerçekten de doğru,” dedi metafizikçi, kendisine bir bardak daha Mousseux koyarken ve ziyaretçisinin parmaklarına enfiye kutusunu sunarken. “Platon’a da,” diye devam etti Majesteleri, enfiye kutusunu ve içerdiği iltifatı alçakgönüllülükle geri çevirerek, “Platon’a da bir zamanlar arkadaşça hisler beslemiştim. Platon’la tanıştın mı Bon-Bon? – Ah! Hayır, binlerce kez özür dilerim. Benimle bir gün Atina’da, Parthenon’da karşılaştı ve bana bir fikirden bunaldığını söyledi. Ona ο νους εδτιv αυλος‘yu* yazmasını önerdim. Bunu yapacağını söyleyip eve gitti, ben de piramitlere çıktım. Ama vicdanım beni bir arkadaşa bile olsa birine gerçeği söylediğim için kınadı ve apar topar Atina’ya geri dönüp ‘αυλος’yu yazarken filozofun sandalyesinin arkasında durdum. Kağıda parmağımla dokunarak ters çevirdim. Böylece cümle şimdi ‘ο νους εδτιv αυγος’** olarak okunuyor ve gördüğün gibi, metafiziğinin temel doktrini.” “Hiç Roma’da bulundunuz mu?” diye sordu restaurateur, ikinci Mousseux şişesini bitirdikten sonra dolaptan büyük bir şişe Chambertin alırken. “Sadece bir kez, sevgili Bon-Bon, sadece bir kez. Bir ara” –dedi Şeytan, sanki bir kitaptan okurcasına– “bir ara beş yıllık bir anarşi dönemi olmuştu ve o sırada bütün memurlarından yoksun kalan cumhuriyetin halkın seçtiklerinden başka yargıcı yoktu. Bunlar da yasal idari yetkiye sahip değildi – o zaman, Mösyö Bon-Bon – yalnızca o zaman Roma’daydım ve bu yüzden onun felsefesine ilişkin dünyevi bir tanıdığım yok.” “Epicurus hakkında ne –hık!– ne düşünüyorsunuz?” “Kimin hakkında?” dedi şeytan şaşkınlıkla, “Epicurus’ta kusur bulmak istiyor olamazsın! Epicurus hakkında ne düşünüyormuşum! Beni mi kastediyorsunuz bayım? – Epicurus benim. Diogenes Laertes tarafından adı anılan üç yüz bilimsel incelemenin herbirini yazan filozof benim.” * Ruh bir flüttür. ** Ruh parlak bir ışıktır.

Sou assediada pelo medo, Aurel! Tenho medo daquilo que os homens da Igreja possam um dia fazer a mulheres como eu. Não apenas porque somos mulheres - porque Deus criou-nos mulheres. Mas porque tentamos a vocês, que são homens - pois Deus criou-os homens. Achas que Deus ama os eunucos e castrados acima daqueles homens que amam uma mulher. Então cuida como louvas a obra de Deus, pois ele não criou o homem para se castrar. Não posso esquecer o que aconteceu em Roma, e não penso mais em mim, pois não foi sobre mim que desencadeaste tua ira naquele dia. Foi sobre Eva, Excelência Reverendíssima, sobre a mulher. E aquele que faz mal a alguém ameaça a todos. Tremo, pois temo o dia que virá quando mulheres como eu serão liquidadas pelos homens da Igreja universal. E por que serão liquidadas, Excelência Reverendíssima? Porque lembrar a vocês o fato de terem renegado suas próprias almas e seus próprios dons. E em nome de quê? De um Deus, dizem vocês todos, daquele que criou um céu acima de vocês e também uma terra onde realmente estão as mulheres que os trazem ao mundo. Se Deus existe, que ele te perdoe. Mas talvez venhas a ser julgado um dia por todas as alegrias da vida a que deste as costas. Renuncias ao amor entre homem e mulher. Isso talvez possa ser perdoado. Mas o fazes em nome de Deus. A vida é curta, e sabemos muito pouco. Mas se foi por tua ordem que me deram tuas confissões para ler aqui em Cartago, a resposta é não. Não me deixarei batizar, Excelência Reverendíssima. Não é a Deus que temo. Sinto que já vivo com ele, e, afinal, não foi ele que me criou? Nem é o Nazareno que me detém, ele era provavelmente um homem de Deus de fato. E não era ele também justo com as mulheres? É dos teólogos que tenho medo. Que o Deus do Nazareno te perdoe por toda a ternura e todo o amor que proscreveste. [Flória Emília foi mulher de Aurélio Agostinho, o Santo Agostinho, por 12 anos antes de ser abandonada]

Kushtrimi i Skanderbeut Ç’asht moj Zanë kjo gjamë nga malet, Ç’asht kjo ushtimë që kurr nuk ndalet, L’shon kushtrimin Skanderbeu, Dridhet toka, tundët dheu. N’kambë shqiptarë ju me u çue, Me ngjesh armët me luftue, Ka ardhun dita e Lirisë, Dërmen me ia dhanë Turkisë. N’kala t’Krujës valon krenar, Njaj flamuri fitimtar, Njaj flamuri kuq e zi, Që në shekujt veç ka pri. N’Lezhë shpejt mblidhet nji kuvend: Flasin princat rend me rend, Skanderbeu nji fjalë ka thanë: Të bashkuem t’jemi të tanë. Lezhë qytet i Ilirisë, Mblodhe burrat e Shqipnisë, N’krye qëndron Gjergj Kastrioti, I Shqiptarve Princ Kryezoti. Pa ndigjo Sulltan Murati, Për njat kryq që mbaj në gji, Me marrë Krujën je ba gati, Gjithë ushtrinë kam me ta gri! Fort tërbue asht Sulltani, E ka dyndun gjithë ushtrinë, Rrethim Krujës veç i bani, Ban hesapet pa hanxhinë. Se jo, Kruja nuk dorzohet, Skanderbeu fort e mbron, Njaj Murati krejt tërbohet, Prej trishtimit ma nuk rrnon. Gjith Evropa n’kamb asht çue, Mbretën, Roma e Venediku, Skanderbeu qoftë nderue, Na ka mbrojt prej çdo rreziku. Emni i tij me shkronja t’arta, Rrin i shkruem në Histori, Me levdatat ma të larta, Përjetsisht i qoftë lavdi! Çdo shqiptar për të krenohet, Për kët Princ e luftëtar, Brez pas brezi do të kujtohet, Si ma i Madhi Hero Kombëtar!

Mr. Rohan,” she heard Beatrix ask, “are you going to marry my sister?” Amelia choked on her tea and set the cup down. She sputtered and coughed into her napkin. “Hush, Beatrix,” Win murmured. “But she’s wearing his ring—” Poppy clamped her hand over Beatrix’s mouth. “Hush!” “I might,” Cam replied. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued. “I find your sister a bit lacking in humor. And she doesn’t seem particularly obedient. On the other hand—” One set of French doors flew open, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Everyone on the back terrace looked up in startlement, the men rising from their chairs. “No,” came Win’s soft cry. Merripen stood there, having dragged himself from his sickbed. He was bandaged and disheveled, but he looked far from helpless. He looked like a maddened bull, his dark head lowered, his hands clenched into massive fists. And his stare, promising death, was firmly fixed on Cam. There was no mistaking the bloodlust of a Roma whose kinswoman had been dishonored. “Oh, God,” Amelia muttered. Cam, who stood beside her chair, glanced down at her questioningly. “Did you say something to him?” Amelia turned red as she recalled her blood-spotted nightgown and the maid’s expression. “It must have been servants’ talk.” Cam stared at the enraged giant with resignation. “You may be in luck,” he said to Amelia. “It looks as if our betrothal is going to end prematurely.” She made to stand beside him, but he pressed her back into the chair. “Stay out of this. I don’t want you hurt in the fray.” “He won’t hurt me,” Amelia said curtly. “It’s you he wants to slaughter.” Holding Merripen’s gaze, Cam moved slowly away from the table. “Is there something you’d like to discuss, chal?” he asked with admirable self-possession. Merripen replied in Romany. Although no one save Cam understood what he said, it was clearly not encouraging. “I’m going to marry her,” Cam said, as if to pacify him. “That’s even worse!” Merripen moved forward, murder in his eyes. Lord St. Vincent swiftly interceded, stepping between the pair. Like Cam, he’d had his share of putting down fights at the gambling club. He lifted his hands in a staying gesture and spoke smoothly. “Easy, large fellow. I’m sure you can find a way to resolve your differences in a reasonable fashion.” “Get out of my way,” Merripen growled, putting an end to the notion of civilized discourse. St. Vincent’s pleasant expression didn’t change. “You have a point. There’s nothing so tiresome as being reasonable. I myself avoid it whenever possible. Still, I’m afraid you can’t brawl when there are ladies present. It might give them ideas.

Deve-se neste momento - relacionando-a com certas informações do dicionário - formular ainda a pergunta: o que são afinal os bens da vida humana? Quem nos diz que um determinado bem é superior ou inferior? Há lacunas desagradáveis nos dicionários, até nos mais conhecidos. Pode-se demonstrar que há pessoas para quem DM 2,5 são um bem muito superior a qualquer outra vida humana, com excepção da deles, e há até outros que, por amor a um bocado de chouriço de sangue, que conseguem ou não apanhar, arriscam sem hesitação os bens das mulheres e dos filhos, como, por exemplo: uma vida familiar alegre e a presença de um pai ao menos uma vez radiante. E que significado tem esse bem, que louvamos sob o nome de F.(Felicidade)? Que diabo, este está bem perto da F., se consegue juntar as três ou quatro beatas que chegam para ele fazer outro cigarro ou se pode beber o resto de Vermute de uma garrafa que se deitou fora, aquele precisa para ser feliz durante cerca de dez minutos - pelo menos segundo o costume ocidental de amor a ritmo acelerado-, mais precisamente: para estar ràpidamente com a pessoa que naquele momento deseja, precisa de um avião a jacto particular, no qual voa entre o pequeno-almoço e o chá da tarde, sem que a pessoa que legal e religiosamente é a sua E.(Esperança) dê por isso, até Roma ou Estocolmo ou (neste caso precisa do tempo até ao pequeno-almoço do dia seguinte) até Acapulco - para ter relações com a ou o desejado - homem-com-homem, mulher-com-mulher ou simplesmente homem-com-mulher.

He toyed with her ear, catching the rim delicately between his teeth. “I’ll admit it wouldn’t be easy, being married to a Romany male. We’re possessive. Jealous. We prefer our wives never to touch another man. Nor would you have the right to refuse me your bed.” His lips covered hers in a molten kiss, his tongue exploring deeply. “But then,” he said, lifting his mouth, “you wouldn’t want to.” Another long, lazy kiss, and then Cam said against her mouth, “You’ll wear the look of a well-loved woman, monisha.” Amelia was forced to hold on to him for balance. “You would leave me, eventually.” “I swear to you, I wouldn’t. I’ve finally found my atchen tan.” “Your what?” “Stopping place.” “I didn’t know Romas had stopping places.” “Not all. Apparently I’m one of the few who do.” Shaking his head, Cam added in a disgruntled tone, “My back is sore after sleeping on the ground all night. My gadjo half has finally gotten the better of me.” Amelia ducked her head and pressed a shaky smile against the cool smoothness of his jerkin. “This is lunacy,” she muttered. Cam held her closer. “Marry me, Amelia. You’re what I want. You’re my fate.” One hand slid to the back of her head, gripping the braids and ribbons to keep her mouth upturned. “Say yes.” He nibbled at her lips, licked at them, opened them. He kissed her until she writhed in his arms, her pulse racing. “Say it, Amelia, and save me from ever having to spend a night with another woman. I’ll sleep indoors. I’ll get a haircut. God help me, I think I’d even carry a pocket watch if it pleased you.

Öğrenmek, kendini tanımak mutsuzluktur. Bizden geri kalan eserler, birbirlerine benzer taşlar, yazılar, yapılar olmalıdır. Putlar gibi ayırıcı özelliği olmamalıdır. Hristiyanlık da ikonoklast bir dönem yaşadı; ilk Hristiyanlar eski Yunan ve Roma'dan kalan anıtları yok ettiler. İslamlık, özellikle Osmanlı bu işi daha ciddiye aldı. Osmanlı, İslamlığı ciddiye aldı. İslamlık, put kırıcılığını ciddiye aldı. Osmanlı bunu İslamlığın ciddiye alışından da öteye götürdü. Kuralları ciddiye aldı, insanı ciddiye almadı. Sorunların sayısını azaltarak mutluluğu arttırmaya çalıştı. Bütün değişimleri devlet eliyle gerçekleştirmek istedi. Nevzat Tandoğan yakalanıp yanına getirilen bir solcuya, ''Bu memlekete komunistlik gerekirse onu da biz getiririz. Sana ne oluyor?'' demişti. Bireye de ne oluyordu. Yahya Kemal kendisine soru sorulmasından hoşlanmazdı. O, geleneği temsil ediyordu. Onunla tartışılamazdı. Kendisine bir toplantıda genç bir adam soru sorunca yanındakine dönerek, ''Kim bu adam?'' demişti. Osmanlı gösterişi sevmiyordu. Küçük saraylarda, ahşap evlerde oturuyordu. Tiyatroyu soytarılık, resmi küfür sayıyordu. Bütün sosyal kurumlar, askerlik örgütü için birer araçtı. Bunun yanısıra halk kendi düzenini ayrı bir biçimde geliştirdi. Bugün saray dili yaşamadığı halde, halkın dili yeni düzen için esas oldu. Hiçbir ülkenin resmi dili, fermanların Osmanlıcası kadar insanların anlayamayacağı bir biçime sokulmamıştır. Bu bakımdan Devlet, Kafka'nın insanları için aşılmaz bir duvar olan bürokrasiye benzer. Lale Devri bir bakıma istisnadır. Devlet her türlü eleştiriye kapalıdır. Divan şiiri her türlü eleştiriye kapalıdır. Düşünce her türlü eleştiriye kapalıdır; felsefe yoktur. Tek felsefe bireyin yok oluşudur; vahdedi vücuttur. Şiirde divancılar 'biz' diye seslenir. Eleştiri çirkini güzelden ayırır, oysa çirkin yoktur. Kapalı sistemdir bu. Ülkücü insan yoktur. Ülkücülük bireyciliktir. Özgün sanat yoktur. Usta-çırak ilişkisi içinde taklit vardır. Bir bakıma gelenek de yoktur. Usta, yaşantısını kimseyle paylaşmaz, yaratıcılığın ayırıcılığı kendisiyle birlikte ölür. Ne ruhun ölümsüzlüğü ne de canlı dünyanın gürültüsü duyulmaz. Batıya olduğu kadar, Doğuya da kapalı bir sistemdir bu. Orta Doğu'dur, Kenar 'Batı'dır. Ne Doğu'dur, ne Batı'dır. Kafka'nın yer altında yaşayan hayvanı gibi, kendisine doğru kazılan bir tünelin içindeki bilinmeyen düşmanı korkuyla bekler.

Biblia pamoja na historia vinatwambia kuwa mitume kumi na wawili wa Yesu Kristo waliamua kufa kinyama kama mfalme wao alivyokufa, kwa sababu walikataa kukana imani yao juu ya Yesu Kristo. Mathayo alikufa kwa ajili ya Ukristo nchini Ethiopia kwa jeraha lililotokana na kisu kikali, Marko akavutwa na farasi katika mitaa ya Alexandria nchini Misri mpaka akafa, kwa sababu alikataa kukana jina la Yesu Kristo. Luka alinyongwa nchini Ugiriki kwa sababu ya kuhubiri Injili ya Yesu Kristo katika nchi ambapo watu hawakumtambua Yesu. Yohana alichemshwa katika pipa la mafuta ya moto katika kipindi cha mateso makubwa ya Wakristo nchini Roma, lakini kimiujiza akaponea chupuchupu, kabla ya kufungwa katika gereza la kisiwa cha Patmo (Ugiriki) ambapo ndipo alipoandika kitabu cha Ufunuo. Mtume Yohana baadaye aliachiwa huru na kurudi Uturuki, ambapo alimtumikia Bwana kama Askofu wa Edessa. Alikufa kwa uzee, akiwa mtume pekee aliyekufa kwa amani. Petro alisulubiwa kichwa chini miguu juu katika msalaba wa umbo la X kulingana na desturi za kikanisa za kipindi hicho, kwa sababu aliwaambia maadui zake ya kuwa alijisikia vibaya kufa kama alivyokufa mfalme wake Yesu Kristo. Yakobo ndugu yake na Yesu (Yakobo Mkubwa), kiongozi wa kanisa mjini Yerusalemu, alirushwa kutoka juu ya mnara wa kusini-mashariki wa hekalu aliloliongoza la Hekalu Takatifu (zaidi ya futi mia moja kwenda chini) na baadaye kupigwa kwa virungu mpaka akafa, alipokataa kukana imani yake juu ya Yesu Kristo. Yakobo mwana wa Zebedayo (Yakobo Mdogo) alikuwa mvuvi kabla Yesu Kristo hajamwita kuwa mchungaji wa Injili yake. Kama kiongozi wa kanisa hatimaye, Yakobo aliuwawa kwa kukatwa kichwa mjini Yerusalemu. Afisa wa Kirumi aliyemlinda Yakobo alishangaa sana jinsi Yakobo alivyolinda imani yake siku kesi yake iliposomwa. Baadaye afisa huyo alimsogelea Yakobo katika eneo la mauti. Nafsi yake ilipomsuta, alijitoa hatiani mbele ya hakimu kwa kumkubali Yesu Kristo kama kiongozi wa maisha yake; halafu akapiga magoti pembeni kwa Yakobo, ili na yeye akatwe kichwa kama mfuasi wa Yesu Kristo. Bartholomayo, ambaye pia alijulikana kama Nathanali, alikuwa mmisionari huko Asia. Alimshuhudia Yesu mfalme wa wafalme katika Uturuki ya leo. Bartholomayo aliteswa kwa sababu ya mahubiri yake huko Armenia, ambako inasemekana aliuwawa kwa kuchapwa bakora mbele ya halaiki ya watu iliyomdhihaki. Andrea alisulubiwa katika msalaba wa X huko Patras nchini Ugiriki. Baada ya kuchapwa bakora kinyama na walinzi saba, alifungwa mwili mzima kwenye msalaba ili ateseke zaidi. Wafuasi wake waliokuwepo katika eneo la tukio waliripoti ya kuwa, alipokuwa akipelekwa msalabani, Andrea aliusalimia msalaba huo kwa maneno yafuatayo: "Nimekuwa nikitamani sana na nimekuwa nikiitegemea sana saa hii ya furaha. Msalaba uliwekwa wakfu na Mwenyezi Mungu baada ya mwili wa Yesu Kristo kuning’inizwa juu yake." Aliendelea kuwahubiria maadui zake kwa siku mbili zaidi, akiwa msalabani, mpaka akaishiwa na nguvu na kuaga dunia. Tomaso alichomwa mkuki nchini India katika mojawapo ya safari zake za kimisionari akiwa na lengo la kuanzisha kanisa la Yesu Kristo katika bara la India. Mathiya alichaguliwa na mitume kuchukua nafasi ya Yuda Iskarioti, baada ya kifo cha Yuda katika dimbwi la damu nchini India. Taarifa kuhusiana na maisha na kifo cha Mathiya zinachanganya na hazijulikani sawasawa. Lakini ipo imani kwamba Mathiya alipigwa mawe na Wayahudi huko Yerusalemu, kisha akauwawa kwa kukatwa kichwa. Yuda Tadei, ndugu yake na Yesu, aliuwawa kwa mishale alipokataa kukana imani yake juu ya Yesu Kristo. Mitume walikuwa na imani kubwa kwa sababu walishuhudia ufufuo wa Yesu Kristo, na miujiza mingine. Biblia ni kiwanda cha imani. Tunapaswa kuiamini Biblia kama mitume walivyomwamini Yesu Kristo, kwa sababu Biblia iliandikwa na mitume.