Rotterdam Quotes

I've become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It's not "Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece" but "Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!

Cities don't make people poor; they attract poor people. The flow of less advantaged people into cities from Rio to Rotterdam demonstrates urban strength, not weakness.

This life is a hospital in which each patient is possessed by the desire to change beds. One wants to suffer in front of the stove and another believes that he will get well near the window. It always seems to me that I will be better off there where I am not, and this question of moving about is one that I discuss endlessly with my soul "Tell me, my soul, my poor chilled soul, what would you think about going to live in Lisbon? It must be warm there, and you'll be able to soak up the sun like a lizard there. That city is on the shore; they say that it is built all out of marble, and that the people there have such a hatred of the vegetable, that they tear down all the trees. There's a country after your own heart -- a landscape made out of light and mineral, and liquid to reflect them!" My soul does not reply. "Because you love rest so much, combined with the spectacle of movement, do you want to come and live in Holland, that beatifying land? Perhaps you will be entertained in that country whose image you have so often admired in museums. What do you think of Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts and ships anchored at the foot of houses?" My soul remains mute. "Does Batavia please you more, perhaps? There we would find, after all, the European spirit married to tropical beauty." Not a word. -- Is my soul dead? Have you then reached such a degree of torpor that you are only happy with your illness? If that's the case, let us flee toward lands that are the analogies of Death. -- I've got it, poor soul! We'll pack our bags for Torneo. Let's go even further, to the far end of the Baltic. Even further from life if that is possible: let's go live at the pole. There the sun only grazes the earth obliquely, and the slow alternation of light and darkness suppresses variety and augments monotony, that half of nothingness. There we could take long baths in the shadows, while, to entertain us, the aurora borealis send us from time to time its pink sheaf of sparkling light, like the reflection of fireworks in Hell!" Finally, my soul explodes, and wisely she shrieks at me: "It doesn't matter where! It doesn't matter where! As long as it's out of this world!

She told me that the brain is built to forget things as we continue to live, that memories are meant to fade and disintegrate, that skin, so protective in the beginning because it has to be to protect our organs, sags eventually - because the organs aren’t so hot anymore either - and sharp edges become blunt, that the pain of letting go of grief is just as painful or even more painful then the grief itself. It means goodbye, it means going to Rotterdam when you weren't expecting to and having no way of telling anyone you won't be back for a while.

The notion that I had walked twelve hundred miles since Rotterdam filled me with a legitimate feeling of something achieved. But why should the thought that nobody knew where I was, as though I were in flight from bloodhounds or from worshipping corybants bent on dismemberment, generate such a feeling of triumph? It always did.

If a rock falls on your head it does positive harm, but shame, disgrace, reproaches and insults are damaging only in so far as you're conscious of them.

I do not say, however, that every delusion or wandering of the mind should be called madness. Erasmus of Rotterdam, The Praise of Folly There

Bright color operates like a stimulant, a shot of caffeine for the eyes. It stirs us out of complacency. The artist Fernand Léger related the story of a newly renovated factory in Rotterdam. “The old factory was dark and sad,” he noted. “The new one was bright and colored: transparent. Then something happened. Without any remark to the personnel, the clothes of the workers became neat and tidy.… They felt that an important event had just happened around them, within them.

Many are the scholars who make it their professional occupation to occupy themselves in this towering edifice of culture, exploring its nook and crannies, developing their responses, making their contributions here and there, and helping to hand it on to succeeding generations. For some the temptation proves irresistible to go yet farther and make this the concern of their lives, letting society go its own sorry way while they lock themselves away in this abiding, socially transcendent cultural stronghold, acquiescing in society while pursuing Bildung. As Rotterdam burns, they study Sanskrit verb forms.

It’s not lost on me that I’m so busy recording life, I don’t have time to really live it. I’ve become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It’s not “Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece” but “Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!

The happiness which Christians seek with so many labours is nothing other than a certain kind of madness and folly

Erasmus of Rotterdam, a sixteenth-century priest who was committed to reforming the church from within, said, “When faith came to be in writings rather than in hearts, contention grew hot and love grew cold. That which is forced cannot be sincere, and that which is not voluntary cannot please Christ.

But this equality applied to such a diversity of persons and temperaments will only result in inequality.

Llevad a un sabio a un banquete y lo perturbará o con lúgubre silencio o con preguntas fastidiosas. Introducidle en un baile y os parecerá, danzando, un camello.

Las grandes cosas con quererlas basta, la culpa es de la brevedad de la vida que no basta a la magnitud del asunto.

Europe’s leading humanist and scriptural scholar, Erasmus of Rotterdam

It was about the beginning of September, 1664, that I, among the rest of my neighbours, heard in ordinary discourse that the plague was returned again in Holland; for it had been very violent there, and particularly at Amsterdam and Rotterdam, in the year 1663, whither they say, it was brought, some said from Italy, others from the Levant, among some goods which were brought home by their Turkey fleet; others said it was brought from Candia; others from Cyprus. It mattered not from whence it came; but all agreed it was come into Holland again.

[...] si consultáis a los historiadores, veréis que no ha habido príncipes más pestíferos para el Estado que cuando el poder cayó en manos de algún filosofastro o aficionado a las letras.

The descent to barbarism had begun with Rotterdam. It ended with Dresden and then with Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Whatever moral differences had existed when the war began were erased by its end. The victors had been morally conquered by the enemy.

In fact this type of man who is devoted to the study of wisdom is always most unlucky in everything, and particularly when it comes to procreating children; I imagine this is because Nature wants to ensure that the evil of wisdom shall not spread further throughout mankind

But the aeronaut, still greatly discomposed, and having apparently no farther business to detain him in Rotterdam, began at this moment to make busy preparations for departure; and it being necessary to discharge a portion of ballast to enable him to reascend, the half dozen bags which he threw out, one after another, without taking the trouble to empty their contents, tumbled, every one of them, most unfortunately upon the back of the burgomaster, and rolled him over and over no less than one-and-twenty times, in the face of every man in Rotterdam.

Ciertamente no hay nada tan fatuo como la ignorancia combinada con la convicción de que uno sabe mucho.

Der Kern des Glücks: Der sein zu wollen, der du bist.

Ma questa, dicono, è appunto follia. Non voglio negarlo, purché in compenso si riconosca che questo è il modo di recitare la commedia della vita.

Een leven zonder boeken is onleefbaar.

El placer no está nunca en la claridad y en la prudencia, siempre en la embriagadez, en la superabundancia, en la ilusión; un brote de locura corresponde siempre a toda vida verdadera.

El erasmista, el que cree en la humanidad, tiene que fomentar en su círculo vital más próximo la unión y no la división, no puede reforzar lo parcial en su parcialidad ni lo hostil en su

It is now high time that I should explain to your Excellencies the object of my perilous voyage. Your Excellencies will bear in mind that distressed circumstances in Rotterdam had at length driven me to the resolution of committing suicide. It was not, however, that to life itself I had any, positive disgust, but that I was harassed beyond endurance by the adventitious miseries attending my situation. In this state of mind, wishing to live, yet wearied with life, the treatise at the stall of the bookseller opened a resource to my imagination. I then finally made up my mind. I determined to depart, yet live—to leave the world, yet continue to exist—in short, to drop enigmas, I resolved, let what would ensue, to force a passage, if I could, to the moon. Now,

[Habla la estulticia]: Los estoicos se creen casi dioses; pues bien dadme uno de ellos que sea tres, o cuatro y hasta seiscientas veces más estoico que los demás, e incluso a éste le haré abandonar, si no la barba, signo de sabiduría, común por cierto con los machos cabríos, por lo menos el entrecejo fruncido; le haré desarrugar la frente, dejar a un lado sus dogmas diamantinos y hasta tontear y delirar un poquito.

In quale parte della terra non volano sciami di nuovi libri? Fra questi, se anche qualcuno pubblicasse qualcosa degno di essere conosciuta, proprio l’enorme massa di titoli ostacolerebbe fortemente gli studi. -Adagia-

Osservate con quanta previdenza la natura, madre del genere umano, ebbe cura di spargere ovunque un pizzico di follia. Infuse nell'uomo più passione che ragione perché fosse tutto meno triste, difficile, brutto, insipido, fastidioso.

Se i mortali si guardassero da qualsiasi rapporto con la saggezza, la vecchiaia neppure ci sarebbe. Se solo fossero più fatui, allegri e dissennati godrebbero felici di un'eterna giovinezza. La vita umana non è altro che un gioco della Follia.

Nicht diejenigen haben die Bücher recht lieb, welche sie unberührt in ihren Schränken aufheben, sondern sie Tag und Nacht in den Händen haben, und daher beschmutzet sind, welche Eselsohren darein machen, sie abnutzen und mit Anmerkungen bedecken.

Der Weise nimmt seine Zuflucht zu den Schriften der Alten und lernt daraus nichts als Wortklauberei. Der Tor hingegen rückt den Problemen zu Leibe und geht das Wagnis, sich mit ihnen auseinanderzusetzen, ein und gewinnt dadurch – wenn ich mich nicht täusche – die wahre Klugheit.

Je unwissender, dreister und leichtfertiger ein Arzt ist, umso höheres Ansehen genießt er; nicht zuletzt bei den betuchten Fürsten. Aber die Medizin, zumal wie sie heute von ziemlich vielen betrieben wird, ist nichts weiter als ein Zweig der Schmeichelkunst, genauso wie die Rhetorik.

Wenn Klugheit vor allem auf praktischer Erfahrung beruht, wem wird dann die Ehre dieser Bezeichnung mehr zustehen? Dem Weisen, der teils aus Scham, teils aus Ängstlichkeit, sich an nichts wagt? Oder dem Toren, dem weder Scham, die ihm abgeht, noch Gefahr, die er nicht in Betracht zieht, von irgendeiner Herausforderung abschreckt?

Zo beschrijft hij hoe wijlen burgemeester Bicket het voordelige ambt van vendumeester -- goed voor zesduizend gulden per jaar -- toeschoof aan zijn veertienjarige zoontje Hendrick. Het burgemeesterszoontje Jan Corver Trip was zelfs al op zijn vijfde jaar postmeester op Rotterdam, Delft en Den Haag. Toen hij acht was maakte zijn vader hem postmeester van het Hamburgse Postcomptoir. Toen hij achttien was, werd hij ook nog kerkmeester van de Nieuwe Walenkerk. Toen hij op zijn negentiende overleed -- hij had een leren riem te strak en te lang om zijn lijf geklemd om zijn overtollige vet te camoufleren, waardoor 'zijne edele's partijen, long en lever aan malkander waren gegroeid' -- liet hij een vermogen na van twee ton.

An English visitor to Amsterdam in 1640 could not hide how impressed he was by what he saw. In the Low Countries, wrote Peter Mundy, even houses of “indifferent quality” were filled with furniture and ornaments “very Costly and Curious, Full of pleasure and home contentment, as Ritche Cupboards, Cabinetts…Imagery, porcelain, Costly Fine cages with birds” and more besides. Even butchers and bakers, blacksmiths and cobblers had paintings and luxury trinkets in their homes.60 “I was amazed,” wrote the English diarist John Evelyn about the annual fair in Rotterdam at around the same time; it was flooded with paintings, especially with “landscapes and drolleries, as they call those clownish representations.” Even common farmers had become avid art collectors.

It is easy to say that Baldwin’s main message was racial equality. Surely the topic flows through his work more than it ebbs. Yet one makes a grave mistake in pigeonholing James Baldwin’s worldview so narrowly, for throughout this miscellany, though racial topics and racial politics are often the touchstone, his true themes are more in line with the early church fathers, with Erasmus of Rotterdam, with the great Western philosophers, with theologians like Reinhold Niebuhr and Dietrich Bonhoeffer and James Cone. And though it is too broad—if not useless—to say his true topic is humanity, it is useful to see how, no matter his topic, how often his writing finds some ur-morality upon which to rest, how he always sees matters through a lens of decency, how he writes with his heart as well as with his head. Baldwin left the pulpit at sixteen, but he never stopped preaching.

Zu dieser Gilde der Narren gehören auch die Leute, die schon zu Lebzeiten so minutiös festlegen, mit welchem Begräbnisprunk sie beigesetzt werden wollen, dass sie sogar ausdrücklich verfügen, wie viele Fackeln, wie viele Schwarzröcke, wie viele Sänger, wie viele Trauermimen sie dabei haben wollen, gerade, als ob einer dieses Schauspiel noch mit eigenem Sinne erleben könnte oder sich die Hingegangenen schämen müssten, wenn ihr Leichnam nicht glanzvoll in die Grube fährt.

Com efeito, que é definir? É encerrar a ideia de uma coisa nos seus justos limites. E que é dividir? É separar uma coisa de suas diversas partes. Ora, nem uma nem outra me convém. Como poderia limitar-me, quando o meu poder se estende a todo o gênero humano? E, como poderia dividir-me, quando tudo concorre, em geral, para sustentar minha divindade? Além disso, porque haveria de me pintar como sombra e imagem numa definição quando estou diante dos vossos olhos e me vedes em pessoa?

I myself once heard a great fool (a great scholar I would have said) undertaking in a laborious discourse to explain the mystery of the Holy Trinity; in the unfolding whereof, that he might shew his wit and reading, and together satisfy itching ears, he proceeded in a new method, as by insisting on the letters, syllables, and proposition, on the concord of noun and verb, and that of noun substantive, and noun adjective; the auditors all wondered, and some mumbled to themselves that hemistich of Horace, Why all this needless trash?

Life is a hospital, in which every patient is possessed by the desire to change his bed. This one would prefer to suffer in front of the stove, and that one believes he would get well if he were placed by the window. It seems to me that I should always be happier elsewhere than where I happen to be, and this question of moving is one that I am continually talking over with my soul. "Tell me, my soul, poor chilled soul, what do you say to living in Lisbon? It must be very warm there, and you would bask merrily, like a lizard. It is by the sea; they say that it is built of marble, and that the people have such a horror of vegetation that they uproot all the trees. There is a landscape that would suit you -- made out of light and minerals, with water to reflect them." My soul does not answer. "Since you love tranquillity, and the sight of moving things, will you come and live in Holland, that heavenly land? Perhaps you could be happy in that country, for you have often admired pictures of Dutch life. What do you say to Rotterdam, you who love forests of masts, and ships anchored at the doors of houses?" My soul remains silent. Perhaps Batavia seems more attractive to you? There we would find the intellect of Europe married to the beauty of the tropics. Not a word. Can my soul be dead? "Have you sunk into so deep a stupor that only your own torment gives you pleasure? If that be so, let us flee to those lands constituted in the likeness of Death. I know just the place for us, poor soul! We will leave for Torneo. Or let us go even farther, to the last limits of the Baltic; and if possible, still farther from life. Let us go to the Pole. There the sun obliquely grazes the earth, and the slow alternations of light and obscurity make variety impossible, and increase that monotony which is almost death. There we shall be able to take baths of darkness, and for our diversion, from time to time the Aurora Borealis shall scatter its rosy sheaves before us, like reflections of the fireworks of Hell!" At last my soul bursts into speech, and wisely cries to me: "Anywhere, anywhere, as long as it be out of this world!

Ochsen und Hammel darf das niedrige Volk ausweiden, aber Wild zerlegen ist ein heiliges Vorrecht der Hochgeborenen. Dieser entblößt sein Haupt, beugt sein Knie und schneidet mit dem eigens dafür bestimmten Weidemesser – irgendein beliebiges dafür zu verwenden, wäre eine Todsünde – mit bestimmten Handbewegungen bestimmte Stücke in bestimmter Reihenfolge andächtig heraus. Als handle es sich dabei um einen unerhörten und heiligen Vorgang, umringt ihn das Jagdgefolge, in Schweigen versunken und voller Bewunderung, obgleich es dieses Schauspiel mehr als Tausend Mal erlebt hat.

It was simply the way with Harry, like waiting for sunrise. But once you made clear that you wouldn't be going to bed with him, he'd look oddly relieved and calm down. And the matter once raised would not be revisited, I will say that for him. He didn't make a nuisance of himself. Funny old skellum. Never dull. There are men whom it is important not to take the slightest notice of when they're talking, if it's after ten o'clock at night and they've had a glass of beer. Harry was one such mammal. They really and truly don't mean to be idiots. But it's like a Roman Catholic person not wanting to feel guilt. Might as well ask water to run uphill. Except that might conceivably be contrived. With a pump. Once, he asked my sister to run away with him, to Rotterdam I think it was. She said no and he asked my brother. That was the most important thing to understand about Harry. Essentially, what he wanted--darling, who wouldn't--was someone to run away with him to Rotterdam. It's what all of us want, isn't it? Of course, nobody gets it. Probably not even those misfortunates who are in Rotterdam already. One wonders where they want to run away to. Crouch End?

Was aber ist gleich töricht wie sich selbst zu gefallen und sich selbst zu bewundern? Aber andererseits, wie kannst Du etwas Anmutiges, Gefälliges und Schickliches zustande bringen, wenn Du Dir selbst missfällst? Nimm dem menschlichen Leben diese seine Würze, und sogleich schlägt dem Vortrag des Redners frostige Ablehnung entgegen, stößt der Musiker mit seinen Melodien bei allen auf taube Ohren, wird der Mime trotz seines ausdrucksvollen Gebärdenspiels ausgepfiffen, der Dichter samt seinen Musenkünsten ausgelacht, der Maler mit seiner Kunst in den Schmutz gezogen, und der Arzt nagt inmitten seiner Pillen und Pülverchen am Hungertuch.

Hábeis e frios calculadores podem vir demonstrar, ainda e sempre, que o sonho do erasmismo é impossível, e os factos poderão parecer dar-lhes razão; isso nao impede que sejam sempre necessários os seres que indicam aos povos aquilo que os aproxima e aquilo que os divide, e que renovam no coração dod homens a crença em mais alta humanidade. Há no legado de Erasmo uma promessa criadora. Aquele que mostra o espírito fora do seu quadro, nas dimensões da Humanidade, dá ao indivíduo uma forma sobre-humana; só as reivindicações ultrapessoais e que parecerem quase irrealizáveis, dão aos homens e aos povos a consciência da sua verdadeira medida.

One of the few entry points to the Baltic Sea, the Kattegat passage is a busy and treacherous waterway. The entire region is a maze of fractured islands, shallow waters and tricky cur-rents which test the skills of all mariners. A vital sea route, the strait is used by large container ships, oil tankers and cruise ships alike and provides a crucial link between the Baltic coun-tries and Europe and the rest of the world. Navigating is difficult even in calm weather and clear visibility is a rare occurrence in these higher latitudes. During severe winters, it’s not uncommon for sections of the Baltic Sea to freeze, with ice occasionally drifting out of the straits, carried by the surface currents. The ship I was commandeering was on a back-and-forth ‘pendulum’ run, stopping at the ports of St Petersburg (Russia), Kotka (Finland), Gdańsk (Poland), Aarhus (Denmark) and Klaipėda (Lithuania) in the Baltic Sea, and Bremerhaven (Ger-many) and Rotterdam (Netherlands) in the North Sea. On this particular trip, the weather gods were in a benevolent mood and we were transiting under a faultless blue sky in one of the most picturesque regions of the world. The strait got narrower as we sailed closer to Zealand (Sjælland), the largest of the off-lying Danish islands. Up ahead, as we zigzagged through the laby-rinth of islands, the tall and majestic Great Belt Bridge sprang into view. The pylons lift the suspension bridge some sixty-five metres above sea level allowing it to accommodate the largest of the ocean cruise liners that frequently pass under its domi-nating expanse.

Then one evening he reached the last chapter, and then the last page, the last verse. And there it was! That unforgivable and unfathomable misprint that had caused the owner of the books to order them to be pulped. Now Bosse handed a copy to each of them sitting round the table, and they thumbed through to the very last verse, and one by one burst out laughing. Bosse was happy enough to find the misprint. He had no interest in finding out how it got there. He had satisfied his curiosity, and in the process had read his first book since his schooldays, and even got a bit religious while he was at it. Not that Bosse allowed God to have any opinion about Bellringer Farm’s business enterprise, nor did he allow the Lord to be present when he filed his tax return, but – in other respects – Bosse now placed his life in the hands of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. And surely none of them would worry about the fact that he set up his stall at markets on Saturdays and sold bibles with a tiny misprint in them? (‘Only ninety-nine crowns each! Jesus! What a bargain!’) But if Bosse had cared, and if, against all odds, he had managed to get to the bottom of it, then after what he had told his friends, he would have continued: A typesetter in a Rotterdam suburb had been through a personal crisis. Several years earlier, he had been recruited by Jehovah’s Witnesses but they had thrown him out when he discovered, and questioned rather too loudly, the fact that the congregation had predicted the return of Jesus on no less than fourteen occasions between 1799 and 1980 – and sensationally managed to get it wrong all fourteen times. Upon which, the typesetter had joined the Pentecostal Church; he liked their teachings about the Last Judgment, he could embrace the idea of God’s final victory over evil, the return of Jesus (without their actually naming a date) and how most of the people from the typesetter’s childhood including his own father, would burn in hell. But this new congregation sent him packing too. A whole month’s collections had gone astray while in the care of the typesetter. He had sworn by all that was holy that the disappearance had nothing to do with him. Besides, shouldn’t Christians forgive? And what choice did he have when his car broke down and he needed a new one to keep his job? As bitter as bile, the typesetter started the layout for that day’s jobs, which ironically happened to consist of printing two thousand bibles! And besides, it was an order from Sweden where as far as the typesetter knew, his father still lived after having abandoned his family when the typesetter was six years old. With tears in his eyes, the typesetter set the text of chapter upon chapter. When he came to the very last chapter – the Book of Revelation – he just lost it. How could Jesus ever want to come back to Earth? Here where Evil had once and for all conquered Good, so what was the point of anything? And the Bible… It was just a joke! So it came about that the typesetter with the shattered nerves made a little addition to the very last verse in the very last chapter in the Swedish bible that was just about to be printed. The typesetter didn’t remember much of his father’s tongue, but he could at least recall a nursery rhyme that was well suited in the context. Thus the bible’s last two verses plus the typesetter’s extra verse were printed as: 20. He who testifies to these things says, Surely I am coming quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus!21. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.22. And they all lived happily ever after.

That’s the S.D.’s favorite trick—feeling for a warm spot on a bed.” © Hans Poley/Nederlands fotomuseum, Rotterdam Two Jewish women during an actual drill of the hiding place in 1943.

When I told my parents that I was going to sea, they didn’t ask any questions and seemed to take it all for granted. Everything happened extremely fast. On the very same day that I was hired, I was on this foreign flagship bound for Le Havre and Rotterdam, without having as much as a passport. Most of the crewmembers that went on strike were left behind for U.S. Immigration to sort out, provided that they could even be rounded up. For me, it was my first seagoing adventure! Being the youngest and newest crewmember on the ship earned me a bunk four tiers up and against the bulkhead, next to the chain locker. You couldn’t get any farther forward, which made me feel that I would be the first to get to where the ship was going. I didn’t take into account that it would also be the first part of the ship that would slam into the sea or anything else that got in the way, but such was the life of a seaman.

When I told my parents that I was going to sea, they didn’t ask any questions and seemed to take it all for granted. It was hard for me to believe that I had graduated from High School the week before and was now a crewmember on a Dutch ship. Everything had happened extremely fast. On the very same day that I was hired, without even having a passport, I was on this foreign flagship bound for Le Havre and Rotterdam. This was my first job aboard ship and now I found myself heading down the Hudson River, past the Statue of Liberty. There wasn’t much time for sightseeing since the dinner chimes had been rung and the few passengers we had were coming into the dining room. No one had explained my duties but I watched the other stewards and followed suit. I must have been a fast learner since amazingly enough all went well, and before I knew it the dining room was empty and it was cleanup time. I’m certain that having worked in my uncle’s restaurants helped but I’m glad I survived without any major mishaps. I knew that tomorrow would go even smoother, now that I understood the routine. For me, it was my first seagoing adventure! Being the youngest and newest crewmember on the ship earned me a bunk four tiers up against the bulkhead, next to the chain locker. You couldn’t get any farther forward, which made me feel that I would be the first to get to where the ship was going. I didn’t take into account that it would also be the first part of the ship that would slam into the sea or anything else that got in the way, but such was the life of a novice seaman.

I’ve become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It’s not “Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece” but “Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!

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All visitors ashore!” shouted a steward. All visitors a—!” As the call to leave the Winschoten faded away in the distance, there was a hum of excitement on the ocean-going vessel. Bells were ringing and the ship’s horn was bellowing out short blasts. “Good-by! Tot ziens!” passengers called to those on the pier. Three attractive girls stood together, leaning on the rail and watching the people onshore, who were waving. One was Nancy Drew, a strawberry blond who had sparkling blue eyes. On her right stood pretty Bess Marvin, a slightly plump blond, while on her left was Bess’s cousin, a slender, athletic girl who enjoyed her boyish name, George Fayne. The three girls were about to sail from Rotterdam in Holland to New York City. Along with other passengers they waved and shouted good-by to those on the pier, although they knew no one.

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Thans is onze uitvoer bijna uitsluitend toevertrouwd aan vreemde handen. Men dient na te gaan, waarom het zoo is, en de middelen te zoeken om het geld, dat wij aan commissionarissen van Havre, Hamburg, Rotterdam of Londen geven, door Belgen te laten winnen en voor ons land te behouden. Ook dient men, zooals ik zegde, aanzienlijk te vermeerderen het bedrag onzer plaatsingen in den vreemde en deze zouden, naar het gevoelen onzer consuls, vertiendubbeld kunnen worden.

lie. She makes a note to call her sisters and discuss the Wheaton collapse. Parents on the fritz. What to do? But long-distance to the East Coast is two dollars a minute, if you don’t have a magic shoe phone. She decides to write them both that weekend. But that weekend is her ceramic sintering conference in Rotterdam, and the letters slip her mind. IN THE FALL, with his wife in the basement studying Latin, Winston Ma, once Ma Sih Hsuin to everyone who knew him, sits under the crumbling mulberry and, with Verdi’s Macbeth blasting out the bedroom window, puts a Smith & Wesson 686 with hardwood grips up to his temple and spreads the workings of his infinite being across the flagstones of the backyard. He leaves no note except a calligraphic copy of Wang Wei’s twelve-hundred-year-old poem left unfurled on parchment across the desk in his study: An old man, I want only peace.

But the US State department officials were stonewalling, informed both by their own antisemitism and anti-foreigner outlook. They hid behind claims that refugees might include Communists and spies; the Jews could, they said, become a destabilising force within America. US consular offices in Europe, like the one in Rotterdam, denied hundreds of thousands of people who applied from 1933, when Hitler was put in power, to 1945, when the war ended. American Rabbi Stephen Wise, who oversaw lobbying efforts for immigration from within the United States’ Jewish community, called this ‘death by bureaucracy’. Mrs Frank’s brothers,

After all, death would not be such a change for them. Everyone knew that Rotterdam was, if not the capital, then the main seaport of Hell. The only difference between Rotterdam and death was that with Rotterdam, the damnation wasn’t eternal.

antibarbarus,” as the fighter against all forms of backwardness and traditionalism, as harbinger of a higher, freer, more humane community of mankind, as the guide into the coming citizenship of the world, he took his place at the head of the marching column.

The only man then living who might have brought this miracle to pass was Erasmus, and Emperor Charles V, the ruler of two worlds, had sent him a special invitation to be present at the diet, conjuring him to give advice and to act as mediator. But Erasmus’s tragic destiny recapitulated itself. Again, as so often before, he missed a magnificent and unique opportunity because of overcautiousness, because of his innate weakness and his incapacity for coming to a definite conclusion.

PIETRO: Anche se tu [Giulio II] fossi un pontefice a pieno titolo: sarebbe stato meglio recedere dalla carica piuttosto che tutelare la tua eminente dignità a costo di tante sciagure dell'orbe cristiano - ammesso che il vescovato conferito a un indegno sia da considerare come una dignità, e neanche conferito, ma mercanteggiato e usurpato. A questo proposito, anzi, mi balena alla mente un'idea: non sarà senza un disegno divino che tu sei diventato il flagello di quei francesi i quali a te, flagello della Chiesa, avevano aperte le porte!

It should be replaced by the European, the supranational ideal. “The entire world is one common fatherland,” declared Erasmus in his Querela pacis (Complaint of Peace), and from this commanding position he looked down upon the senseless quarrels between the nations, the hatred between English, Germans, and French, to exclaim: “Why do such foolish names still exist to keep us sundered, since we are united in the name of Christ?

When animals fall upon one another,” he writes, “I can understand and forgive, for they act in ignorance. But men should not need to be told that war is of necessity unjustifiable since, as a rule, it harms not so much those who prepare for it and who carry it on; for usually the full burden of it falls upon innocent parties, upon the unhappy masses, who gain nothing either from victory or from defeat.

Courage, as I have said before, was not one of Erasmus’s virtues; he chose, therefore, to flee the city rather than to fight the issue.

But there was one man alive who refused to wait, an ardent and impatient warrior in the spirit’s cause, resolute in his determination to cut this Gordian knot. This doughty knight was named Ulrich von Hutten,

There are epochs wherein neutrality is stigmatized as a crime; during times of extreme political excitement the world insists upon a clear Yes or No, an affirmation of support or of disapproval, a distinct declaration of “I am for Luther or I am for the pope.

If Erasmus may be likened to the Girondists, then Luther may be compared with the Jacobins, and Thomas Münzer and his followers with the ultra-Jacobins such as Marat.

Power and expansion of power were for Machiavelli the supremest duty, and success the decisive justification of both prince and people.

As far as the case of Luther is concerned, by far the greatest part of this trouble should be blamed on those who, both in sermons and pamphlets, made claims about the nature of indulgences and the power of the pope which no educated and religious audience could tolerate.

After Dunkirk, the Luftwaffe had turned its sights onto England. We’d seen the destructive force of German military might playing to universal horror across cinema screens up and down the country, and with our army gone, Hitler and Göring’s eyes turned west to the white cliffs of Dover. Warsaw, Rotterdam… was London next? Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh? They bombed us relentlessly for a fortnight, even before France signed her official surrender. Night-time bombing raids on London, now called “The Blitz”. Fires in the night sky, women and children screaming, the shriek of the bombers, the deathly silence that briefly, fatefully follows. And then dust, blood, sirens. Noise and smells and screeching yells, panic and terror. The rising panic of a people under fire, who knew they had no army left to defend them when the enemy came.

Leamas saw. He saw the long road outside Rotterdam, the long straight road beside the dunes, and the stream of refugees moving along it; saw the little aeroplane miles away, the procession stop and look towards it; and the plane coming in, nearly over the dunes; saw the chaos, the meaningless hell, as the bombs hit the road. “I can’t talk like this, Control,” Leamas said at last. “What do you want me to do?

On Monday 9 October 1734 some 240 to 270 people left Zurich on three boats in order to reach Basel and then Rotterdam by traveling down the Rhine. Later

ON A WARM, drowsy afternoon in early September, Ed Murrow, Vincent Sheean, and Ben Robertson, a correspondent for the New York newspaper PM, stopped at the edge of a field several miles south of London. The three had spent the day driving down the Thames estuary in Murrow’s Talbot Sunbeam roadster, enjoying the sun and looking for dogfights between Spitfires and Messerschmitts. Their search had been fruitless, and they stopped to buy apples from a farmer. Stretching out on the field to eat them, they drowsily listened to the chirp of crickets and buzzing of bees. The war seemed very far away. Within minutes, however, it returned with a vengeance. Hearing the harsh throb of aircraft engines, the Americans looked up at a sky filled with wave after wave of swastika-emblazoned bombers that clearly were not heading for their targets of previous days—the coastal defenses and RAF bases of southern England. Following the curve of the Thames, they were aimed straight at London. In minutes the sky over the capital was suffused with a fiery red glow; black smoke billowed up into a vast cloud that blanketed much of the horizon. When shrapnel from antiaircraft guns rained down around the American reporters, they dived into a nearby ditch, where, stunned, they watched the seemingly endless procession of enemy aircraft flying north. “London is burning. London is burning,” Robertson kept repeating. Returning to the city, they found flames sweeping through the East End, consuming dockyards, oil tanks, factories, overcrowded tenements, and everything else in their path. Hundreds of people had been killed, thousands injured or driven from their homes. Under a blood-red moon, women pushed prams piled high with their salvaged belongings. That horrific evening marked the beginning of the Blitz: from September 7 on, London would endure fifty-seven straight nights of relentless bombing. Until then, no other city in history had ever been subjected to such an onslaught. Warsaw and Rotterdam had been heavily bombed by the Germans early in the war, but not for the length of time of the assault on London. Although

It was Von Choltitz who had given the order in May 1940 to firebomb the inner city of Rotterdam,

Phase 3: Forgiveness As I shared in Chapter 7, forgiveness is critical to Blissipline and the peak states needed for extraordinary living. Here you’ll incorporate the forgiveness exercise from that chapter into your daily practice. Science is now showing that forgiveness can lead to profound health benefits, including reduced back pain, higher athletic performance, better heart health, and greater feelings of happiness. One study of a small group of people with chronic back pain showed that those who meditated with a focus on moving from anger to compassion reported less pain and anxiety compared to those who got regular care. Another study found that forgiving someone improved blood pressure and reduced the workload on the heart. Interesting that lightening the heart of negativity should literally help it. Research on the impact of forgiveness by Xue Zheng of Erasmus University’s Rotterdam School of Management showed that forgiveness makes the body seemingly stronger. “Our research shows that forgivers perceive a less daunting world and perform better on challenging physical tasks,” said Zheng. In one study, participants could actually jump higher after writing an account of forgiving someone who had harmed them. In another study by Zheng, participants who were asked to guess at the steepness of a hill described the hill as less steep after they had written down an account of an incident where they had forgiven someone. In a previous chapter, I described my own powerful experiences with forgiveness during meditation. That’s why forgiveness is one of the components of the Six-Phase—it strengthens not only your body, but also your soul.

however, the round trip was a very long one (fourteen months was in fact well below the average). It was also hazardous: of twenty-two ships that set sail in 1598, only a dozen returned safely. For these reasons, it made sense for merchants to pool their resources. By 1600 there were around six fledgling East India companies operating out of the major Dutch ports. However, in each case the entities had a limited term that was specified in advance – usually the expected duration of a voyage – after which the capital was repaid to investors.10 This business model could not suffice to build the permanent bases and fortifications that were clearly necessary if the Portuguese and their Spanish allies* were to be supplanted. Actuated as much by strategic calculations as by the profit motive, the Dutch States-General, the parliament of the United Provinces, therefore proposed to merge the existing companies into a single entity. The result was the United East India Company – the Vereenigde Nederlandsche Geoctroyeerde Oostindische Compagnie (United Dutch Chartered East India Company, or VOC for short), formally chartered in 1602 to enjoy a monopoly on all Dutch trade east of the Cape of Good Hope and west of the Straits of Magellan.11 The structure of the VOC was novel in a number of respects. True, like its predecessors, it was supposed to last for a fixed period, in this case twenty-one years; indeed, Article 7 of its charter stated that investors would be entitled to withdraw their money at the end of just ten years, when the first general balance was drawn up. But the scale of the enterprise was unprecedented. Subscription to the Company’s capital was open to all residents of the United Provinces and the charter set no upper limit on how much might be raised. Merchants, artisans and even servants rushed to acquire shares; in Amsterdam alone there were 1,143 subscribers, only eighty of whom invested more than 10,000 guilders, and 445 of whom invested less than 1,000. The amount raised, 6.45 million guilders, made the VOC much the biggest corporation of the era. The capital of its English rival, the East India Company, founded two years earlier, was just £68,373 – around 820,000 guilders – shared between a mere 219 subscribers.12 Because the VOC was a government-sponsored enterprise, every effort was made to overcome the rivalry between the different provinces (and particularly between Holland, the richest province, and Zeeland). The capital of the Company was divided (albeit unequally) between six regional chambers (Amsterdam, Zeeland, Enkhuizen, Delft, Hoorn and Rotterdam). The seventy directors (bewindhebbers), who were each substantial investors, were also distributed between these chambers. One of their roles was to appoint seventeen people to act as the Heeren XVII – the Seventeen Lords – as a kind of company board. Although Amsterdam accounted for 57.4 per cent of the VOC’s total capital, it nominated only eight out of the Seventeen Lords.

He recognized but two strata of society, an upper, consisting of the aristocracy of the mind, and a lower, plebeian, barbaric stratum which comprehended the remainder of mankind.

The Nazis entered this war under the rather childish delusion that they were going to bomb everyone else, and nobody was going to bomb them. At Rotterdam, London, Warsaw, and half a hundred other places, they put their rather naive theory into operation. They sowed the wind, and now they are going to reap the whirlwind.

His only master had always been fair-mindedness,

History, however, is invariably unjust to the vanquished; she does not appreciate men of moderation, men who play the role of mediators, men who act as reconcilers, in a word, humane men. She loves men of passion, the immoderate, the adventurers in the realms of deed and of thought.

He knew practically nothing save book-lore, possessing neither an eye for paintings nor an ear for music.

Of all the men of genius who have lived upon this earth, Luther was, perhaps, the most fanatical, the most unteachable, the most intractable, and the most quarrelsome. He could only tolerate those who were completely acquiescent with his views, so that he could make what use he would of them; those who said him nay served him as targets for his wrath, and provided him with material to grind to powder with his scorn.

The Rotterdam tycoons Van der Vorm and Van Beuningen showed up again, too, still competing for old masters. Back and forth they went, snatching up each new forgery as if they would never have such an opportunity again.

By the time they put their wallets away, Rotterdam’s two most acclaimed collectors owned five Van Meegeren forgeries between them.

he wanted to be as good as he imagined them to be, so he bent his whole life to trying to pretend to be a real boy, and he’s continuing to act out that script, because he’s afraid that if he ever stops, he’ll find out that he’s still that same starving scavenger that stayed alive somehow on the streets of Rotterdam.” Carlotta laughed. “It doesn’t occur to you that maybe it was the role of the feral child that was forced onto him, and the good man in our cargo hold is the real Julian

Erasmus and Basle, have become inseparable: one cannot nowadays think of Erasmus without calling up the vision of Basle, or of Basle without picturing Erasmus.

In time, when the two magnates began competing to put their hands on a Vermeer, their rivalry would put millions of dollars into Van Meegeren’s pocket. Throughout Van Meegeren’s story, rivalry was a major theme. Rotterdam and Amsterdam were rivals for prestige; so were Van der Vorm and Van Beuningen; so were Hitler and Goering. In the 1930s and ’40s, these various rivals had one thing in common: they all wanted a Vermeer for themselves.

Bredius had been fighting to keep Vermeer’s best work away from the upstart Americans for thirty years, since his long-ago tug of war over The Milkmaid. Hannema, the director of a museum yearning for a place at a table dominated by haughty Amsterdam and the mighty Rijksmuseum, was desperate to win this one-of-a-kind jewel for himself. Hannema had an extra incentive, though he hardly needed one. Nearly a century before, Rotterdam had kicked away a chance at one of the best-loved Vermeers of all, The Lacemaker. Through all the succeeding Decades, the pain of that loss lingered on.

Cuando en agosto de 2017 Estados Unidos nos dejó de vender gasolina, nadie se enteró. No fue por una razón política, sino por el huracán Harvey, que en su violenta llegada a las costas de Texas obligó al cierre de toda actividad de exportación de combustibles. Lo que hizo Pemex fue traer la gasolina de Rotterdam y de Asia. Es un mercado donde se puede resolver este tipo de problemas.

Sikkel in Groningen, Piemel in Friesland, Worst in Rotterdam, Pik in de Kempen.

Het Openbaar Ministerie Rotterdam wenst u fijne prettige Kerstdagen.

Atlantic to France. Before long 150 ships, chartered and paid for by Hoffman’s ECA, were on the high seas carrying cargoes to harbors at Bordeaux, Liverpool, Rotterdam, and Genoa. The psychological effect of the first American ships arriving at ports on the continent, along with the promise of what was to come, cannot be overstated. For the Europeans and the British, the Marshall Plan revived hope for the future, a sense of confidence that economic and political recovery was indeed achievable. For the first time in years, wrote an Economist reporter, “it is fitting that the peoples of

Once during the protests before the World Economic Forum, a kind of junket of tycoons, corporate flacks and politicians, networking and sharing cocktails at the Waldorf Astoria, pretended to be discussing ways to alleviate global poverty. I was invited to engage in a radio debate with one of their representatives. As it happened the task went to another activist but I did get far enough to prepare a three-point program that I think would have taken care of the problem nicely: - an immediate amnesty on international debt (An amnesty on personal debt might not be a bad idea either but it’s a different issue.) - an immediate cancellation of all patents and other intellectual property rights related to technology more than one year old - the elimination of all restrictions on global freedom of travel or residence. The rest would pretty much take care of itself. The moment the average resident of Tanzania, or Laos, was no longer forbidden to relocate to Minneapolis or Rotterdam, the government of every rich and powerful country in the world would certainly decide nothing was more important than finding a way to make sure people in Tanzania and Laos preferred to stay there. Do you really think they couldn’t come up with something? (p. 79)

Türk vatandaşlarının en yoğun bulunduğu ülkelerden biri olan Rotterdam'da büyü yapan ve büyü bozan medyum hoca arayışı dikkat çekiyor. Rotterdam medyumu olarak en tanınan isimlerin başında Medyum Ali Gürses Hoca geliyor. Çalışmalarını yurtdışına da gönderebilen Medyum Ali Hoca'ya medyumalibey @ gmail.com mail adresinden veya 0535 590 62 75 numaralı telefondan ulaşılabilmekte.

Medyum Ali Hoca başta Mısır olmak üzere birçok farklı ülkede uzun yıllar havas ve ilm-i ledün alanında eğitim alarak kendini geliştirmiş, Türkiye'de parapsikoloji, kuantum ve bioenerji üzerine ihtisas yapmıştır. Türkiye'nin en iyi medyumları arasında gösterilen Medyum Ali Gürses Hoca aşk, bağlama, kısmet açma, rızık açma vefkleri, büyü bozma, yıldızname gibi birçok konuda uzun yıllardır Rotterdam başta olmak üzere yurtdışındaki Türklere de hizmet vermektedir.

I’ve always valued long-term relationships, but John Hsieh, the former head of Itel’s container leasing business, taught me that you simply cannot succeed in-country without them. Hsieh had extensive international experience and contacts. He took me under his wing, and we traveled the world meeting Itel’s customers and suppliers—from a cocktail party in Rotterdam with British and German customers to a dinner in Hong Kong with a Chinese shipping company. The deep relationships he had with his customers enlightened me. I learned that the extreme degree to which you rely on strong personal relationships is perhaps the single biggest difference between doing business in the emerging markets and the U.S.

Venetian containment strategy as the standard for public health in combatting plague. Other European ports—such as Marseille, Corfu, Valencia, Genoa, Naples, Amsterdam, and Rotterdam—imitated Venice and built their own lazarettos.