Siberian Education Quotes

Chi vuole troppo è un pazzo, perché un uomo non può possedere più di quello che il suo cuore riesce ad amare

le lacrime umane non cadono mai per terra, il Signore le raccoglie prima

La vera arte è una forma di protesta, quindi ogni opera d'arte deve creare contraddizioni, far discutere. Per la sua filosofia, il tatuaggio criminale era la forma d'arte più pura che esisteva al mondo. La gente, -diceva - odia i criminali, però ama i loto tatuaggi.

- Guarda gli animali, secondo te loro ne sanno qualcosa della felicità? - Beh, penso che anche gli animali ogni tanto si sentono tristi o felici, solo che non riescono a esprimere i loro sentimenti...- ho risposto io. Lui mi ha guardato in silenzio e poi ha detto : -E lo sai perché Dio ha dato all'uomo una vita più lunga di quella degli animali? -No, non ci ho mai pensato... -Perché gli animali vivono seguendo il loro istinto e non fanno sbagli. L'uomo vive seguendo la ragione, quindi ha bisogno di una parte della vita per fare sbagli, un'altra per poterli capire, e una terza per cercare di vivere senza sbagliare.

Just as the full absurdity of Trump was sinking in, crushing any hope that he would turn “presidential,” Putin, in the American imagination, was turning into a brilliant strategist, a skilled secret agent who was plotting the end of the Western world. In fact, Putin was and remains a poorly educated, underinformed, incurious man whose ambition is vastly out of proportion to his understanding of the world. To the extent that he has any interest in the business of governing, it is solely his own role—on the world stage or on Russian television—that concerns him. Whether he is attending a summit, piloting a plane, or hang gliding with Siberian cranes, it is the spectacle of power that interests him. In this, he and Trump are alike: to them, power is the beginning and the end of government, the presidency, politics—and public politics is only the performance of power.

Per me, se esiste il paradiso, dev'esserci assolutamente una tavola imbandita come quella del locale di zia Katja. Non osavamo bere alcol davanti a lei, per non darle dispiacere. Così bevevamo kompot, una specie di composta di frutta, una macedonia di mele, pesche, prugne, albicocche e mirtilli rossi e neri fatta bollire a lungo in un grosso pentolone. Si preparava d'estate, e per il resto dell'anno veniva conservato in bottiglioni da tre litri con un collo largo circa dieci centimetri, chiuso ermeticamente. Si teneva in fresco nelle cantine, poi andava riscaldato prima di berlo. Ogni volta che zia Katja si allontanava, zio Kostič aggiungeva nei nostri bicchieri un po' di vodka facendoci l'occhiolino: - Fate bene a non farvi vedere da lei...- Noi buttavamo giù obbedienti il misto di vodka e kompot, e lui rideva delle facce che facevamo subito dopo.

but he gave us that which the poor need— education. That, and a certain hardening for the battle of life. The food was poor, the clothing rough, and the house was always cold. We became accustomed to all kinds of hardship and misery, which were shared with us by his own daughter, his only child, and heiress to a very large fortune. Burski was very wealthy indeed!

Our elders had taught us well. First of all, you had to respect all living creatures — a category which did not include policemen, people connected with the government, bankers, loan sharks and all those who had the power of money in their hands and exploited ordinary people. Secondly, you had to believe in God and in his Son, Jesus Christ, and love and respect the other ways of believing in God which were different from our own. But the Church and religion must never be seen as a structure. My grandfather used to say that God didn’t create priests, but only free men; there were some good priests, and in such cases it was not sinful to go to the places where they carried out their activities, but it definitely was a sin to think that in the eyes of God priests had more power than other men. Lastly, we must not do to others what we wouldn’t want to be done to us; and if one day we were obliged to do it nonetheless, there must be a good reason.

The weapons in our house, as in all Siberian houses, were kept in particular places. The so-called personal guns—the ones Siberian criminals carry around with them and use every day—are placed in the “red corner,” where the family icons hang on the walls, along with the photographs of relatives who have died or are serving prison sentences. Below the icons and the photographs there is a shelf, draped with a piece of red cloth, on which there are usually about a dozen Siberian crucifixes. Whenever a criminal enters the house he goes straight to the red corner, pulls out his gun, and puts it on the shelf; then he crosses himself and places a crucifix over the gun. This is an ancient tradition that ensures that weapons are never used in a Siberian house: if they were, the house could never be lived in again. The crucifix acts as a kind of seal, which can only be removed when the criminal leaves the house.