Woman In The Dunes Quotes

Loneliness was an unsatisfied thirst for illusion.

Do you shovel to survive, or survive to shovel?

One could not do without repetition in life, like the beating of the heart, but it was also true that the beating of the heart was not all there was to life.

Everyone has his own philosophy that doesn't hold good for anybody else.

Only the happy ones return to contentment. Those who were sad return to despair.

The fish you don't catch is always the biggest.

He wanted to believe that his own lack of movement had stopped all movement in the world, the way a hibernating frog abolishes winter.

I rather think the world is like sand. The fundamental nature of sand is very difficult to grasp when you think of it in its stationary state. Sand not only flows, but this very flow is the sand.

What in heaven's name was the real essence of this beauty? Was it the precision of nature with its physical laws, or was it nature's mercilessness, ceaselessly resisting man's understanding?

The only way to go beyond work is through work. It is not that work itself is valuable; we surmount work by work. The real value of work lies in the strength of self-denial.

If there were no risk of a punishment, a getaway would lose the pleasure.

There wasn't a single item of importance [in the newspaper]. A tower of illusion, all of it, made of illusory bricks and full of holes. If life were made up only of important things, it really would be a dangerous house of glass, scarcely to be handled carelessly. But everyday life was exactly like the headlines. And so everybody, knowing the meaninglessness of existence, sets the center of his compass at his own home.

If from the beginning you always believed that a ticket was only one-way, then you wouldn't have to try so vainly to cling to the sand like an oyster to a rock.

When I'm single, I'm this fabulous, independent, confident woman, and then I get involved with one disastrous man after another and I turn into this needy, insecure, fearful girl who becomes frightened of her own shadow.

Animal smell is beyond philosophy.

Defeat begins with the fear that one had lost.

There is in each of us an ancient force that takes and an ancient force that gives. A man finds little difficulty facing that place within himself where the taking force dwells, but it’s almost impossible for him to see into the giving force without changing into something other than man. For a woman, the situation is reversed…These things are so ancient within us…that they’re ground into each separate cell of our bodies…It’s as easy to be overwhelmed by giving as by taking.

Only a shipwrecked person who has just escaped drowning could understand the psychology of someone who breaks out in laughter just because he is able to breathe

-Well, what happens with the River of Hades in the end? -Not a thing. It's an infernal punishment precisely because nothing happens.

And so, one bit one's nails, unable to find contentment in the simple beating of one's heart... one smoked, unable to be satisfied with the rhythm of one's brain...

Sand, which didn't even have a form of it's own. Yet, not a single thing could stand against this shapeless, destructive power. The very fact that it had no form was doubtless the highest manifestation of its strenght, was it not?

The beauty of sand, in other words, belonged to death. it was the beauty of death that ran through the magnificence of its ruins and its great power of destruction

Suddenly a sorrow the color of dawn welled up in him. They might as well lick each other’s wounds. But they would lick forever, and the wounds would never heal, and in the end their tongues would be worn away.

His expression hardened. It was unpleasant to have feelings that he had been at pains to check aroused to no purpose

There are all kinds of life, and sometimes the other side of the hill looks greener. What's hardest for me is not knowing what living like this will ever come to.

Work seemed something fundamental for man, something which enabled him to endure the aimless flight of time.

This crazy, blind beating of wings caused by man-made light... this irrational connection between spiders, moths and light. If a law appeared without reason, like this, what would one believe in?

The barrenness of sand, as it is usually pictured, was not caused by simple dryness, but apparently was due to the ceaseless movement that made it inhospitable to all living things. What a difference compared with the dreary way human beings clung together year in year out.

A cougar is a sexually active and confident woman who's a predator. Tell me you not flattered.

Будем каждое утро тщательно разглаживать любовь утюгом…

Когда на тебя смотрят, а ты делаешь что-то гадкое — это гадкое в той же степени марает и тех, кто смотрит.

The old woman was a witch shadow—hair like matted spiderwebs, hooded ’round darkness of features, eyes like glittering jewels.

Move slowly and the day of your revenge will come," Tuek said. "Speed is a device of Shaitan. Cool your sorrow–we’ve the diversions for it; three things there are that ease the heart–water, green grass, and the beauty of woman.

Certainly sand was not suitable for life. Yet, was a stationary condition absolutely indispensable for existence? Didn't unpleasant competition arise precisely because one tried to cling to a fixed position? If one were to give up a fixed position and abandon oneself to the movement of the sands, competition would soon stop. Actually, in the deserts flowers bloomed and insects and other animals lived their lives. These creatures were able to escape competition through their great ability to adjust--for example, the man's beetle family. While he mused on the effect of the flowing sands, he was seized from time to time by hallucinations in which he himself began to move with the flow.

Patience itself was not necessarily defeat. Rather defeat really began when patience was thought to be defeat

The same sand currents had swallowed up and destroyed flourishing cities and great empires. They called it the "sabulation" of the Roman Empire, if he remembered rightly.

The change in the sand corresponded to a change in himself. Perhaps, along with the water in the sand, he had found a new self.

Shield!” the old woman snapped. “You well know the weakness there! Shield your son too much, Jessica, and he’ll not grow strong enough to fulfill any destiny.

Нет иного пути возвыситься над трудом, как посредством самого труда. Не труд сам по себе имеет ценность, а преодоление труда трудом… Истинная ценность труда в силе его самоотрицания…

انگار هر زن عادی جداً معتقد است که نمی‌تواند مرد را به ارزش خود واقف کند، مگر این‌که خودش را به او عرضه کند، چنان کند که انگار صحنه‌ای از یک داستان عاشقانه است. اما این توهم رقت‌انگیز و معصومانه در حقیقت زن را قربانی یک طرفه‌ی تجاوزی روحی می‌کرد.

Más que de la mujer, el hombre tiende a enamorarse de los fragmentos y detalles de las cosas.

As she always did, when she went over the dune and saw the waves crashing on the shore, her heart leapt inside her in excitement. She still had a love affair with the ocean.

He was angry at the things that bound the woman … and at the woman who let herself be bound.

A man may fight the greatest enemy, take the longest journey, survive the most grievous wound -- and still be helpless in the hands of the woman he loves.

It should be one of the tests,” the old woman said. “Humans are almost always lonely.

We are the people of Misr,” the old woman rasped. “Since our Sunni ancestors fled from Nilotic al-Ourouba, we have known flight and death. The young go on that our people shall not die.

Put it like this: show me a man who knows how to treat a woman like dirt, and I will faint with delight at his feet and allow him to treat me like the doormat he so clearly wants me to be.

I started this book wanting to tell the story of a woman, but I've realized that yours is the story of a human being who fought for the right to exist as a woman, as opposed to the nonexistence imposed upon you by your life, and by life with my father.

Yet he could not understand why he was so terribly attracted by her thighs, but he was, so much that he felt like taking the nerves of his body and coiling them one by one around them. The appetite of meat eating animals must be just this, coarse, voracious.

But this means you exist only for the purpose of clearing away the sand, doesn't it?

(...) gelozia patetică a oamenilor şi nerăbdarea lor în faţa fericirii altora.

The whole surface of her body was covered with a coat of fine sand, which hid the details and brought out the feminine lines; she seemed a statue gilded with sand.

Time cannot be spurred on like a horse. Bu it is not quite so slow as a pushcart.

The remembrance of a woman is longer than a tear. (Le souvenir d'une femme - Est plus long qu'une larme.)

تکرار به نحوی هولناک ادامه داشت. بی تکرار نمی‌شد زندگی کرد، مثل ضربان قلب، البته این نکته هم درست بود که ضربان قلب همه چیز زندگی نبود

Rarely will you meet anyone so jealous a a teacher. Year after year students tumble along like the waters of a river. They flow away, and only the teacher is left behind, like some deeply buried rock at the bottom of the current. Although he may tell others of his hopes, he doesn't dream of them himself. He thinks of himself as worthless and either falls into masochistic loneliness, or, failing that, ultimately becomes suspicious and pious, forever denouncing the eccentricities of others.

In any sight-seeing place,” he answered indifferently, “there’s got to be a hot spring around. Besides, everybody knows that the only ones who make anything out of tourists are the merchants or outsiders.

Once he had seen a reproduction of an engraving called “Hell of Loneliness” and had thought it curious. In it a man was floating unsteadily in the air, his eyes wide with fright, and the space around him, far from being empty, was so filled with the semi-transparent shadows of dead persons that he could scarcely move. The dead, each with a different expression, were trying to push one another away, talking ceaselessly to the man. What was this “Hell of Loneliness”? he wondered. Perhaps they had misnamed it, he had thought then, but now he could understand it very well. Loneliness was an unsatisfied thirst for illusion. And so, one bit ones nails, unable to find contentment in the simple beating of ones heart. One smoked, unable to be satisfied with the rhythm of ones brain. One had the shakes, unable to find satisfaction in sex alone.

During the say the traces of summer , reluctant to depart, still set the sand afire, and their bare feet could not stand it for more than five minutes at a time. But when the sun set, the crack-ridden walls of the room let in the cold night damp.

ah ! tu m'as appris à comprendre bien des choses ! le visage d'une jeune fille, d'une femme, est forcément pour un homme un objet extrêmement variable ; le plus souvent, il n'est qu'un miroir, où se reflète tantôt une passion, tantôt un enfantillage, tantôt une lassitude, et il s'efface si vite, comme une image dans une glace, qu'un homme peut sans difficulté oublier le visage d'une femme, d'autant mieux que l'âge y fait alterner l'ombre et la lumière et que des costumes nouveaux l'encadrent différemment.

Her hips are dunes curved by the wind, Her eyes shine like summer heat, Two braids of hair hang down her back- Rich with water rings, her hair! My hands remember her skin, Fragrant as amber, flower-scented. Eyelids tremble with memories. . . I am stricken by love's white flame!

He recalled another thing the old woman had said about a world being the sum of many things – the people, the dirt, the growing things, the moons, the tides, the suns – the unknown sum called nature, a vague summation without any sense of the now. And he wondered: What is the now?

این تعهد نیست ـ کج‌سلیقگی است ـ که این موضوع را تا حد رابطه‌ی پیچیده‌ای لای زرورق دنبال کنیم. بگذارید هر بامداد تر و تازه باشیم. وقتی پوشش فرسوده شد، دیگر کهنه است. چین و چروک را اتو می‌کنی باز مثل تازه می‌شود. تازه که شد، بی درنگ باز کهنه می‌شود... آیا اجباری هست که به این چیزهای ناشایست گوش بدهیم؟

— Ну ладно, не нужно утешать... Жизнь не такая штука, чтобы прожить ее в утешении... Там своя жизнь, здесь — своя, и всегда кажется, что чужая жизнь слаще... Самое противное — думать: что, если жизнь вот так и будет идти?.. Что это за жизнь? Этого ведь никто не знает... Эх, лучше быть по горло заваленным работой и не думать обо всем этом...

هیچ چیز مهمی در روزنامه نبود. همه‌اش بُرجی توهمی، ساخته از آجرهای وهم و پر از سوراخ. اگر زندگی فقط از چیزهای مهم ساخته شده باشد، به راستی خانه‌ی شیشه‌ای خطرناکی خواهد بود که کمتر می‌توان بی‌پروا دست به دستش کرد. اما زندگی روزمره دقیقا شبیه عنوان‌های روزنامه بود. و بنابراین هر کس، با دانستن بی‌معنایی وجود، مرکز پرگارش را در خانه‌ی خود می‌گذارد

Cuestiones como «Amor al Pueblo» y la obligación social sólo tienen sentido si uno pierde algo cuando se desentiende de ellas... ¿Pero qué diablos tenía ella que perder?

Yes, he remembered, when everything was in ruins some ten years ago, everybody desperately wanted not to have to walk. And now, were they glutted with this freedom from walking?

The place was already piled high with the sand she had hauled over. “I’m clearing away the sand.” “You’ll never finish, no matter how long you work at it.

three things there are that ease the heart—water, green grass, and the beauty of woman.

Inima o luase razna! Sălta ca un iepure speriat, ca şi cum n-ar fi putut să stea în culcuşul ei. Părea gata să se furişeze oriunde - în gură, în urechi sau chiar în intestine.

Inocenţa ei feminină îl preschimbase într-un duşman.

Libertatea, combinată cu neliniştea constantă - ca o perdea care nu se trage de tot — poate să ducă numai la crearea de psihopaţi sexuali.

Pentru un bărbat munca pare să fie ceva esenţial, care-l ajută să-ndure scurgerea fără ţintă a timpului.

Nu poţi trăi fără repetiţie, fără bătaia inimii, dar era adevărat că bătăile inimii nu însemnau totul în viaţă.

Un aparat de radio şi o oglindă au un punct comun: amandouă pot să facă legătura între o persoană şi alta.

The barrenness of sand, as it is usually pictured, was not caused by simple dryness, but apparently was due to the ceaseless movement that made it inhospitable to all living things.

Lo invadió una tristeza como la luz del alba… Bien podían lamerse mutuamente las heridas. Pero, de persistir en las heridas que no se cierran nunca, terminarían por quedarse sin lengua.

Singura cale să eviţi munca este să munceşti. Nu munca în sine este preţioasă; ci faptul că învingem munca prin muncă. Adevărata valoare a muncii sălăşluieşte în puterea renunţării la sine.

Dar chiar şi cu bilete dus-întors, dacă punctul de plecare era diferit, destinaţia era, fireşte, şi ea diferită. Şi n-ar fi deloc straniu dacă biletul lui de întoarcere ar fi de fapt biletul ei de plecare.

Nuevamente se volvió a mirar a la mujer, y sin embargo, no sintió ninguna tentación de acercarse más. Una mujer cubierta de arena podía resultar visualmente atractiva, pero no inspiraba el deseo de tocarla.

It should be one of the tests,” the old woman said. “Humans are almost always lonely. Now summon the boy. He’s had a long, frightening day. But he’s had time to think and remember, and I must ask the other questions about these dreams of his.

The old woman said: “You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.

Cuando los campesinos compran más tierra con el fruto de su trabajo, eso significa que tienen que trabajar más que antes. A fin de cuentas, las preocupaciones y el trabajo no tienen fin, y lo único que obtienen es la posibilidad de tener más quehacer que antes…

Por eso uno se roe las uñas en la imposibilidad de hallar la paz en el simple latido del corazón; consume cigarrillos porque no está satisfecho con el ritmo de su propio cerebro; uno tiene que hacer temblar su cuerpo al no encontrar la satisfacción tan sólo en el sexo.

As it turned out, the sachem had been dead wrong. The Europes neither fled nor died out. In fact, said the old women in charge of the children, he had apologized for this error in prophecy and admitted that however many collapsed from ignorance or disease more would always come. They would come with languages that sounded like a dog bark; with a childish hunger for animal fur. They would forever fence land, ship whole trees to faraway countries, take any woman for quick pleasure, ruin soil, befoul sacred place and worship a dull, unimaginative god. They let their hogs browse the ocean shore turning it into dunes of sand where nothing green can ever grow again. Cut loose from the earth's soul, they insisted on purchase of its soil, and like all orphans they were insatiable. It was their destiny to chew up the world and spit out a horribleness that would destroy all primary peoples.

Viaţa omului n-ar trebui să fie scrisă pe atatea petice de hartie risipite. Viaţa e un jurnal legat, iar uneori înţelegi o carte de la prima pagină. Nu poţi fi silit să-ţi faci datoria pentru o pagină care n-are legătură cu cele dinainte. Nu poţi fi implicat ori de cîte ori cineva e gata să moară de foame

Got a one-way ticket to the blues, woo, woo, . . . IF you want to sing it, sing it. These days people caught in the clutches of the one-way ticket never sing it like that. The soles of those who have only a one-way ticket are so thin that they scream when they step on a pebble. They have had their fill of walking. "The Round-Trip Ticket Blues" is what they want to sing. A one-way ticket is a disjointed life that misses the links between yesterday and today, today and tomorrow. Only the man who obstinately hangs on to a round-trip ticket can hum with real sorrow a song of a one-way ticket. For this very reason he grows desperate lest the return half of his ticket be lost or stolen; he buys stocks, signs up for life insurance, and talks out of different sides of his mouth to his union pals and his superiors. He hums "The One-Way Ticket Blues" with all his might and, choosing a channel at random, turns the television up to full volume in an attempt to drown out the peevish voices of those who have only a one-way ticket and who keep asking for help, voices that come up through the bathtub drain or the toilet hole. It would not be strange at all if "The Round-Trip Ticket Blues" were the song of mankind imprisoned.

The northern shore was gray, grim, and inhospitable, and Diana knew every inch of its secret landscape, its crags and caves, its tide pools teeming with limpets and anemones. It was a good place to be alone. The island seeks to please, her mother had told her. It was why Themyscira was forested by redwoods in some places and rubber trees in others; why you could spend an afternoon roaming the grasslands on a scoop-neck pony and the evening atop a camel, scaling a moonlit dragonback of sand dunes. They were all pieces of the lives the Amazons had led before they came to the island, little landscapes of the heart.

Totuşi femeile obişnuite păreau convinse că nu puteau să-l facă pe un bărbat să le cunoască valoarea decat dacă, ori de cate ori îşi desfăceau picioarele, o făceau ca şi cum ar fi fost eroinele unui serial. Dar această iluzie, foarte patetică şi de fapt nevinovată, făcea din femei victimele unui viol spiritual, unilateral.

Go up along the eastern side of Lake Michigan, steer northeast when the land bends away at Point Betsie, and you come before long to Sleeping Bear Point–an incredible flat-topped sand dune rising five hundred feet above the level of the lake and going north for two miles or more. It looks out over the dark water and the islands that lie just offshore, and in the late afternoon the sunlight strikes it and the golden sand turns white, with a pink overlay when the light is just so, and little cloud shadows slide along its face, blue-gray as evening sets in. Sleeping Bear looks eternal, although it is not; this lake took its present shape no more than two or three thousand years ago, and Sleeping Bear is slowly drifting off to the east as the wind shifts its grains of sand, swirling them up one side and dropping them on the other; in a few centuries it will be very different, if indeed it is there at all. Yet if this is a reminder that this part of the earth is still being remodeled it is also a hint that the spirit back of the remodeling may be worth knowing. In the way this shining dune looks west toward the storms and the sunsets there is a profound serenity, an unworried affirmation that comes from seeing beyond time and mischance. A woman I know says that to look at the Sleeping Bear late in the day is to feel the same emotion that comes when you listen to Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto, and she is entirely right. The message is the same. The only trouble is that you have to compose a planet, or great music, to say it persuasively. Maybe man–some men, anyway–was made in the image of God, after all.

Sexul, conform naturii lui, nu era definit de un singur organism individual, ci de acela al speciei. Individul, după terminarea actului, nu poate decît să se întoarcă la propriul său eu. Numai oamenii fericiţi se întorc la mulţumire. Cei care au fost trişti se-ntorc la disperare. Cei care erau pe moarte, se-ntorc la patul lor de moarte.

Frumuseţea naturii nu trebuie să simpatizeze numaidecat cu omul. Punctul lui de vedere că nisipul este un rebut al stării staţionare nu era nebunie... un fluid de 1/8 mm... o lume a cărei existenţă era o serie de stări succesive. Cu alte cuvinte, frumuseţea nisipului aparţinea morţii. Frumuseţea morţii marca măreţia ruinelor lui şi marea-i putere de distrugere.

The mannequins are not fitted with full simulation mechanics, so you will have to imagine the next part. Apparently it is a necessary procedure in proper courtship ritual. The man will kiss her ear, lick it, and promise his everlasting love. Traditionally, this causes the woman to go into heat.” He looked sternly at the boy. “Do you understand this so far?” Gilbertus nodded. Somewhat to Erasmus’s consternation, the boy displayed a detached curiosity with no uneasiness whatsoever, and no apparent urges of his own. “Next, the man will kiss her on the mouth. At this point both will begin to salivate heavily,” Erasmus said in a professorial tone. “Salivation is a key element in procreation. Apparently kissing serves to make the female more fertile.” The boy nodded, and half smiled. Erasmus took this to mean that he understood. Good! The robot began to rub the faces of the mannequins together, briskly. “Now this is very important,” Erasmus said. “Salivation and ovulation. Remember those two concepts and you will have a basic grasp of the human reproductive process. After the kissing, intercourse begins immediately.” He began to speak more rapidly. “That is all you need to know about human copulation. Do you have any questions, Gilbertus?

Bien, escúchame con calma. Los que sufren vértigo, los drogadictos, los histéricos, los asesinos maniáticos, los sifilíticos, los deficientes mentales…, suponiendo que haya el uno por ciento de cada uno de ellos, sobre el total representarían un veinte por ciento… De ser posible enumerar otras ochenta anormalidades, y por supuesto se puede, se constituiría una prueba estadística de que la humanidad es cien por cien anormal.

Después de todo, nada había comenzado, nada había terminado. Como si no fuera él quien había satisfecho sus deseos, sino alguien totalmente ajeno que había tomado prestado su cuerpo; el sexo, por su naturaleza, no se definía en cada cuerpo sino según las especies. El individuo, terminada su tarea, debe volver de inmediato a su situación anterior. Sólo los fieles regresan a la satisfacción… Los tristes vuelven a la desesperación… Los que estaban muriendo, a su lecho de muerte… En verdad, no entendía cómo una farsa semejante llegaba a considerarse amor desenfrenado…

Sus sueños, su desesperación, su vergüenza, su preocupación por las apariencias —todo había sido enterrado bajo la arena—: Todo había desaparecido. Y así, cuando las manos de los hombres tocaron sus hombros, no sintió la menor emoción. Si en ese momento se lo hubieran ordenado, se habría bajado los pantalones y hubiera defecado allí, frente a ellos. * El cielo se había aclarado, y parecía que pronto saldría la luna. ¿Qué cara pondrá la mujer al recibirme?… De verdad no me importa lo más mínimo la clase de bienvenida que pueda darme… Ahora estaría dispuesto a convertirme en un punching ball para que me golpearan a placer.

Si no fuera por esta araña, difícilmente se podría pensar que la luz de una lámpara fuera útil para la continuidad de la especie. Y, sin embargo, se trataba de lo mismo, ya que la atracción ejercida por la lámpara, tanto en la araña como en la polilla, había sido posterior a la aparición de la luz fabricada por el hombre. El hecho de que todas las polillas no salieran volando hacia la luna era una prueba irrefutable de ello. Se comprendía si fuera un hábito de una sola especie. Pero siendo común a las polillas de unas diez mil variedades, sólo se podía deducir que era una ley inmutable. Ese ciego y loco batir de alas que suscitaba la luz creada por el hombre… esa conexión secreta e irracional entre luces, polillas y arañas… Si una ley semejante aparecía así, alocadamente, ¿en qué diablos se podía creer?

Se quedó pasmado. Parecía que la mujer se hubiera quitado una máscara. La cara de la aldea se le presentaba al descubierto a través de la mujer. Hasta ese momento se suponía que la aldea, unilateralmente, era el verdugo; o tal vez una planta carnívora sin voluntad propia, o una voraz anémona de mar, y se suponía que él era una pobre víctima que casualmente había caído en la trampa. Pero desde el punto de vista de los aldeanos, eran ellos los abandonados, y naturalmente no veían razón para sentir ninguna obligación hacia el mundo exterior. De manera que, si él era uno de los causantes del perjuicio, lógicamente los colmillos de los aldeanos estaban dirigidos a él. Nunca se le había ocurrido pensar de esta manera acerca de su relación con ellos. No era raro que se sintiera confundido y molesto. Pero aunque ése fuera el caso, y así lo admitía, batirse en retirada en ese punto sería como abandonar su propia justificación.

Am un bilet de tren spre tristeţe-e-e-e... Dacă vrei s-o canţi - cant-o. In ziua de azi cei care sunt prinşi în ghearele biletului de tren n-o cantă aşa niciodată. Tălpile lor sunt atat de subţiri, încat ţipă cand calcă pe cate o pietricică. S-au plimbat destul. Acum ar vrea să cante „Romanţa biletului dus-întors". Un bilet „de dus" e o viaţă demontată, căreia îi lipsesc verigile dintre ieri şi astăzi, dintre astăzi şi maine. Numai un om care se agaţă de un bilet dus şi întors poate să fredoneze cu o tristeţe adevărată cantecul unui bilet de dus. Tocmai de aceea e disperat ca nu cumva jumătatea „de întors" a biletului să se piardă sau să fie furată: cumpără mărfuri, face asigurări pe viaţă şi turuie întruna cu tovarăşii săi din sindicat şi cu superiorii. Fredonează „Romanţa biletului dus" cu toată puterea şi, alegandu-şi la întamplare un canal, dă drumul televizorului la maximum, încercand să înece vocile morocănoase ale acelora care n-au decît un bilet „dus" şi care strigă neîncetat după ajutor, voci care urcă prin ţevile de la baie sau prin gaura closetului. N-ar fi deloc curios dacă „Romanţa biletului dus-întors" ar fi cantecul omenirii încarcerate.

Once, men turned their thinking over to machines in the hope that this would set them free. But that only permitted other men with machines to enslave them.” “‘Thou shalt not make a machine in the likeness of a man’s mind,’” Paul quoted. “Right out of the Butlerian Jihad and the Orange Catholic Bible,” she said. “But what the O.C. Bible should’ve said is: ‘Thou shalt not make a machine to counterfeit a human mind.’ Have you studied the Mentat in your service?” “I’ve studied with Thufir Hawat.” “The Great Revolt took away a crutch,” she said. “It forced human minds to develop. Schools were started to train human talents.” “Bene Gesserit schools?” She nodded. “We have two chief survivors of those ancient schools: the Bene Gesserit and the Spacing Guild. The Guild, so we think, emphasizes almost pure mathematics. Bene Gesserit performs another function.” “Politics,” he said. “Kull wahad!” the old woman said. She sent a hard glance at Jessica. “I’ve not told him, Your Reverence,” Jessica said. The Reverend Mother returned her attention to Paul. “You did that on remarkably few clues,” she said. “Politics indeed. The original Bene Gesserit school was directed by those who saw the need of a thread of continuity in human affairs. They saw there could be no such continuity without separating human stock from animal stock—for breeding purposes.