Xx Quotes

To: Christian Grey You've made me cry again. I love the iPad. I love the songs. I love the British Library App. I love you. Goodnight. Ana xx

Close your eyes and enjoy the rollercoaster that is life :) xx

Good morning, beautiful, call when you're awake. xx Adam.

Well we've left behind the 200X's, and we move onto the 20XX's. Maybe that will finally make us feel like we're living in the future, rather than a media controlled slave state where an iPhone is worth substantially more than a human life. Happy new year.

When one loves, it has nothing to do with sex.

Subject: Sundown Date: June 14 2011 09:35 To: Christian Grey Dear Completely & Utterly Smitten I love waking up with you, too. But I love being in bed with you and in elevators and on pianos and billiard tables and boats and desks and showers and bathtubs and strange wooden crosses with shackles and four poster beds with red satin sheets and boathouses and childhood bedrooms. Yours Sex Mad and Insatiable xx

Reading in no way obliges us to understand.

You’re lovely, and I will never hurt you how he hurt you. (That part was me.) Leon xx

Shigure: Hey get off me Yukina: Why would I? I'm in the middle of tempting you

Whenever someone tells you that you're doing XYZ like a girl, then you can whip out, "Thank you, hater, you're my motivator," and then go back to being XX chromosome AF.

Once when I was eight years old my grandmother asked me, what will you do when you grow up? And I answered, I want to die. I want to die when I grow up. I want to die soon. And I think my sister really liked that answer.

he always got a lot of fun of acting like the other half of a half-wit ― Dashiell Hammett, The Dain Curse, ch XX

Any time you try to collapse the distance between your delusions about the past and what really happened, there is suffering involved." p. xx

Chapter XX Happy’s the wooing That’s not long a-doing

XX A learned man came to me once. He said, "I know the way, - come." And I was overjoyed at this. Together we hastened, Soon, too soon, were we Where my eyes were useless, And I knew not the ways of me feet. I clung to the hand of my friend; But at last he cried, "I am lost.

Este un lucru pe care nu l-am inventat noi, dar esența schimbării este următoarea: în întreg secolul XX, am transformat orașele din ceea ce au fost în orașe pentru automobile. Acum, în secolul XXI, trebuie să transformăm orașele înapoi, în orașe pentru oameni.

han dil udaas ha magar ab na teri koi aas ha zamana chora tujhay apna banaya tu ne hamein thukraya zamana apnaya ab jab zaroorat hay mujhay zamany ki tujhay b nahi koi zarorat ab laut any ki teri in adaaon ko jan gya mein yeh wohi adat purani c masoom dilon say khelna han yeh wohi kahani c rabba tu dikha dena issy bhala rasta kahin na le bethy baduwa kisi tootay dil say ye larki jan k jo bani anjani c.........xx

I don't mined being lied to, but what ever you do never betray me

Es una de esas fisonomías que se quedaron sin vender en el siglo XIX y que en el XX siguen sin encontrar postor.

Thirty blocks, huh . . . too bad these leather boots don't have Feather Falling XX. I

Frank's phone beep-beeped and vibrated before he’d put it back in his pocket: Love to! xx Man. Two kisses already. The woman was a nymphomaniac.

Happy Christmas, Clara. Xx. Yes, I know. I know that text doesn't look like much. But... actually. First note the comma. I feel proud of his comma, and of being his comma's recipient.

Сегашната ми най-голяма любов е Исак Башевис Сингер. Само два разказа съм чел - "Моят приятел Кафка" и "Ключът", но мога да заключа, че той е белетристът на XX в., както Пикасо в живописта, Чаплин в киното, Стравински в музиката. Радой Ралин [1982]

I tend the mobile now like an injured bird We text, text, text our significant words. I re-read your first, your second, your third, look for your small xx, feeling absurd. The codes we send arrive with a broken chord. I try to picture your hands, their image is blurred. Nothing my thumbs press will ever be heard. "Text

„Защо гледаме все към небето? - помисли си Данаил. - Уж не вярваме, не вярваме, а все към небето гледаме...

The passage, “And He rested on the seventh day” (Exod. xx. 11) is interpreted as follows: On the seventh Day the forces and laws were complete, which during the previous six days were in the state of being established for the preservation of the Universe. They were not to be increased or modified.

Excuse me while I throw this down, I’m old and cranky and tired of hearing the idiocy repeated by people who ought to know better. Real women do not have curves. Real women do not look like just one thing. Real women have curves, and not. They are tall, and not. They are brown-skinned, and olive-skinned, and not. They have small breasts, and big ones, and no breasts whatsoever. Real women start their lives as baby girls. And as baby boys. And as babies of indeterminate biological sex whose bodies terrify their doctors and families into making all kinds of very sudden decisions. Real women have big hands and small hands and long elegant fingers and short stubby fingers and manicures and broken nails with dirt under them. Real women have armpit hair and leg hair and pubic hair and facial hair and chest hair and sexy moustaches and full, luxuriant beards. Real women have none of these things, spontaneously or as the result of intentional change. Real women are bald as eggs, by chance and by choice and by chemo. Real women have hair so long they can sit on it. Real women wear wigs and weaves and extensions and kufi and do-rags and hairnets and hijab and headscarves and hats and yarmulkes and textured rubber swim caps with the plastic flowers on the sides. Real women wear high heels and skirts. Or not. Real women are feminine and smell good and they are masculine and smell good and they are androgynous and smell good, except when they don’t smell so good, but that can be changed if desired because real women change stuff when they want to. Real women have ovaries. Unless they don’t, and sometimes they don’t because they were born that way and sometimes they don’t because they had to have their ovaries removed. Real women have uteruses, unless they don’t, see above. Real women have vaginas and clitorises and XX sex chromosomes and high estrogen levels, they ovulate and menstruate and can get pregnant and have babies. Except sometimes not, for a rather spectacular array of reasons both spontaneous and induced. Real women are fat. And thin. And both, and neither, and otherwise. Doesn’t make them any less real. There is a phrase I wish I could engrave upon the hearts of every single person, everywhere in the world, and it is this sentence which comes from the genius lips of the grand and eloquent Mr. Glenn Marla: There is no wrong way to have a body. I’m going to say it again because it’s important: There is no wrong way to have a body. And if your moral compass points in any way, shape, or form to equality, you need to get this through your thick skull and stop with the “real women are like such-and-so” crap. You are not the authority on what “real” human beings are, and who qualifies as “real” and on what basis. All human beings are real. Yes, I know you’re tired of feeling disenfranchised. It is a tiresome and loathsome thing to be and to feel. But the tit-for-tat disenfranchisement of others is not going to solve that problem. Solidarity has to start somewhere and it might as well be with you and me

Some people will try to blow your candle out to make theirs shine brighter - don't let them! xx

XIX. An Opinion XX. A Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps XXII. The Sea Still

Days XIX. An Opinion XX. A Plea XXI. Echoing Footsteps

Padre, si usted fuera mujer entendería las razones y no me haría decir tantas avemarías Padre, ¿no se da cuenta? mi castigo de ahora es libertad en el siglo XX.

În secolul XX, dragostea e un telefon care nu sună.

Deniers build their pseudo-arguments on traditional anti-Semitic stereotypes and imagery. They contend that Jews created the myth of the Holocaust in order to bilk the Germans out of billions of dollars and ensure the establishment of Israel. Once again the devious Jews have harmed innocent multitudes—Germans and Palestinians in particular—for the sake of their own financial and political ends. To someone nurtured by the soil of anti-Semitism, this makes perfect sense. -- The Eichmann Trial, page xx

People, nearly all of them, don’t know how to worry about others without being presumptuous, with finesse, with modesty. They think they know. My sister thought she knew. Knew the human race. . . . Knowledge doesn’t know. But that’s something few understand.

Fumi: So, what happened Asami-chan? Asami: Onii-chan's(big brother)... always said mean stuff and he's always been cold. He couldn't get along well with his ex-girlfriend and I thought that he wouldn't be able to get along with anyone else either. I'd always thought that he'd always be by my side. But it's different with Haruna! He's getting along so well with her! And on top of that, they might be OO and XX and they might get married!! He won't be only my Onii-chan anymore!! Fumi: Wow! You really approve of Haruna-chan, huh? I see!! Asami-chan really likes Haruna-chan!! Asami: Fumi-kun... were you even listening...?

(…) jest naiwnością mniemanie, jakoby zachwyt nasz wobec dzieła sztuki z nas samych pochodził: że zachwyt ten w sporej mierze nie rodzi się z ludzi, ale między ludźmi, i jest to tak jakbyśmy wzajemnie zmuszali się do zachwytu (choć nikt „osobiście” nie jest zachwycony). / It is naive to believe that the admiration for a masterpiece is spontaneous. The admiration, to a great extent, is not born within people but between people, as if we forced each other to admire (while no one is “personally” enraptured). (Dziennik, 1956, XX, Wtorek I)

I'm Perfect at Feelings,
 so I have no problem telling you
 why you cried over the third lost
 metal or the mousetrap. I knew
 that orgasms weren't your fault 
and that feeling of keeping solid
 in yourself but wanting an ecstatic
 black hole was just bad beauty. 

 Certain loves were perfect
 in the daytime and had every 
right to express carnally behind
 the copy machine and there are 
no hard feelings for the boozy 
sodomy and sorry XX daisy chain,
 whenever it felt right for you.

 And when the moment of soft 
levitation with erasing hands 
made you feel dirty, like
 the main person to think up love
 in the first place, I knew that.
 It's okay, you're an innocent
 with the brilliance of an animal stuffing yourself sick on a kill.
 Don't, don't feel like the runt alien 
on my ship: I get you. I know
 the dimensions of your wishing 
and losing and don't think you
 a glutton with petty beefs. But
 even I, who know your triggers,

 your emblematic sacs of sad fury,
 I understand why the farthest fat trees 
sliver down with your disappointment 
and why the big sense of the world,
 wrong before you, shrugs but
 somewhere grasps your spinning,
 stunning, alone. But you have me.

You're a monster. You'll go to hell." "Of course I will. Someone needs to take the throne.

I speak without knowing it. I speak with my body and I do so unbeknownst to myself. Thus I always say more than I know. This is where I arrive at the meaning of the word "subject" in analytic discourse. What speaks without knowing it makes me "I," subject of the verb. That doesn't suffice to bring me into being. That has nothing to do with what I am forced to put in — enough knowledge for it to hold up, but not one drop more.

Điều mà người ta sợ hãi thật ra chẳng đến nỗi quá tồi tệ như người ta thường tưởng tượng ra. Nỗi sợ hãi mà người ta cứ để lớn dần lên trong tâm trí còn đáng sợ hơn nhiều so với thực tế.

Ombrosa non c’è più. Guardando il cielo sgombro, mi domando se è davvero esistita. Quel frastaglio di rami e foglie, biforcazioni, lobi, spiumii, minuto e senza fine, e il cielo a sprazzi irregolari e ritagli, forse c’era solo perché ci passasse mio fratello con suo leggero passo di codibugnolo, era un ricamo fatto di nulla che assomiglia a questo filo d’inchiostro, come l’ho lasciato correre per pagine e pagine, zeppo di cancellature, di rimandi, di sgorbi nervosi, di macchie, di lacune, che a momenti si sgrana in grossi acini chiari, a momenti si infittisce in segni minuscoli come semi puntiformi, ora si ritorce su se stesso, ora si biforca, ora collega grumi di frasi con contorni di foglie o di nuvole, e poi si intoppa, e poi ripiglia a attorcigliarsi, e corre e corre e si sdipana e avvolge un ultimo grappolo insensato di parole idee sogni ed è finito.

The art of seduction should be from within yourself, not from your outer appearance. If whoever you're doing this for doesn't realize that... then, honey, you're seducing the wrong person.

prisoner was attacked by 87 Rank A criminals at xx Hours. The conclusion of the fight saw 86 dead and 1 mentally scarred for life, now submitted to the mental institution ward of the prison. Prisoner John is perfectly fine. Footage shows he acted out of self-defence. He was confined to his cell while awaiting the results of the investigation. No trouble since. Recommended Action: Don’t piss him off.

Acknowledging that my biological imperative may not include the drive to procreate, that I just might be attracted to XX chromosomes instead of XY? That's so stupid-minor in comparison to the fact that I might actually be in love for the first time in my life. It's with a girl...so what? Lesbian, bisexual, whatever! Thus isn't about categorisation or chromosomes. This is about how I feel about another person.

They say that to escape reality is when you sleep, but when you sleep your sub conscious is in control of your dreams. For me to escape reality is when I read and write. When I read the world around me doesn't exist. The world in the story does and when I write I'm in control. Think of it as the author is the god of the world that they created. They set the characters fate.

Azok, akik arról beszéltek, miszerint a XX. században, a világhatalmak korában a kis nemzetek elvesztették létjogosultságukat, végzetesen hibáztak - mert a kis, de összetartó népek korát éljük. Másrészről mélyen kell beidegződnie a magyar tudatba annak, hogy hibáinkért és gyarlóságainkért most mi egyedül vagyunk és leszünk felelősek.

‎I was born in the US and l have lived in Mexico since 1946. I believe that all these states of being have influenced my work and made it what you see today. I am inspired by Black people and Mexican people, my two peoples. My art speaks for both my peoples

I have been pursuing my own train of thought for more than thirty years, undisturbed by all this, just because it is what I must do, and I could not do otherwise, out of an instinctive drive which is nonetheless supported by the confidence that what is thought truly and what throws light on obscurity will be grasped at some point by another thinking mind.XX

To Love Is Nothing To Be Loved Is Something To Love And Be Loved, Is Everything

But one does have to give words some credit. One has to at least pretend that they more or less resemble their meaning. Their shady meaning.

You have to love yourself first before someone else love you! Your beautiful no matter what anyone says !! Xx

Capítulo XX. Se as fortalezas e muitas outras coisas que a cada dia são feitas pelos príncipes são úteis ou não

Hey! We finally arrived. Such a mission but we’re here now and we’re seeing the doc tomorrow. Have been thinking of u… Can’t wait to see u again! xx

sementara tali kematian yang membelitku berada di tangan-Mu (Mazmur XX)

nuestro siglo XX había transformado la fábula de Mahoma y de la montaña; las montañas, ahora, convergían sobre el moderno Mahoma.

XX век – век реабилитации сказки, век реабилитации фэнтези, фантастики, век великого кризиса реализма. Потому что реальность XX века была такая, что от нее было впору только бежать.

...набожна жена беше тя, православна християнка, но как всички тези антихристски дивотии съжителствуваха с християнската й душа - това е загадка за целия наш народ, който си е останал езичник в червата и мозъка на костите, а само устата си е научил да вика: "Господи Исусе Христо!".

La realidad del mundo empezaba a ser más grotesca que las pantomimas de los payasos y los osos danzarines. Pronto, nadie nos necesitaría. El siglo XX se había convertido en el gran circo de la historia.

Al llarg dels segles XIX i XX hem passat, per dir-ho clar, de la guerra (o lluita) de classes al conflicte d'interessos, per bé que persisteix el conflicte entre rics i pobres, entre classes altes i baixes. Aquest salt qualitatiu es fa a remolc del creixement econòmic -que és un anivellador social i que afovoreix un estàndard de vida- i de l'extensió i la millora de l'ensenyament -que integra els individus en un projecte comú.

Spiritualize your warfare. Every day you face battles—that is the reality for all creatures in their struggle to survive. But the greatest battle of all is with yourself—your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself. As a warrior in life, you welcome combat and conflict as ways to prove yourself, to better your skills, to gain courage, confidence, and experience. Instead of repressing your doubts and fears, you must face them down, do battle with them. You want more chal-xx lenges, and you invite more war. You are forging the warrior’s spirit, and only constant practice will lead you there.

El físico teórico estadounidense del siglo XX John Archibald Wheeler lo expresó de mejor forma, resumiendo el concepto de Einstein como: “La materia le dice al espacio cómo curvarse; el espacio la dice a la materia cómo moverse”.4

The book which the reader has under his eye at this moment is, from one end to the other, as a whole and in detail, whatever may be its intermittences, exceptions and faults, the march from evil to good, from the unjust to the just, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from rottenness to life, from hell to heaven, from nothingness to God. Point of departure: matter; point of arrival: the soul. The hydra at the beginning, the angel at the end.” Volume V, Book I, Chapter XX This

No século XX ninguém se ama. Ninguém quer ninguém. Amar é out, é babaca, careta. Embora existam essas estranhas fronteiras entre paixão e loucura, entre paixão e suicídio. Não entendo como querer o outro possa tornar-se mais forte do que querer a si próprio [...] Mentira, compreendo sim. Mesmo consciente de que nasci sozinho do útero de minha mãe, berrando de pavor para o mundo insano, e que embarquei sozinho num caixão rumo a sei lá o quê, além do pó. O que ou quem eu cruzo entre esses dois portos gelados da solidão é mera viagem [...] e exigimos o eterno do perecível.

Como la vida de Cristo es en todo sentido muy amarga para la naturaleza, para el yo, y para el mí (porque en la verdadera vida de Cristo, el yo, el mí, y la naturaleza deben abandonarse, perderse y morir por completo), por lo tanto, en cada uno de nosotros, la naturaleza le tiene horror. Theologia Germánica, xx.

Throughout this book I will refer to both sex and gender. By 'sex', I mean the biological characteristics that determine whether an individual is male or female , XX and XY. By 'gender', I mean the social meanings we impose upon those biological facts. The way women are treated because they are perceived to be female. One is man-made, but both are real and both have significant consequences for women as they navigate this world constructed on male data. But although I talk about both sex and gender throughout, I use 'Gender Data Gap' as an overarching term. Because sex is not the reason women are excluded from data - gender is

Por más pobres que seáis, sobreabundáis en bienes naturales y espirituales. Que la luz de Cristo os conduzca a abrir los ojos sobre la inmensidad de la miseria humana para llevarle algún remedio, por la oración o por la acción. Dios, encontrado en toda la vida. Dios, comunicado siempre. Dios, actuando para la salvación del mundo entero[2].

A ferramenta das vanguardas, sempre conforme minha visão pessoal, é o procedimento. (...) Construtivismo, escritura automática, ready-made, dodecafonismo, cut-up, acaso, indeterminação. Os grandes artistas do século XX não são os que fizeram obra, mas aqueles que inventaram procedimentos para que a obra se fizesse sozinha, ou não se fizesse.

To love isn't all about sacrificing everything, sometimes you have to keep something for yourself so when the time comes and he left you, you wouldn't lose it all.

And even the purest of hearts are drawn into the allure of the darkness. -Tristan

En todo lo que hace el hombre hay una imitación, y en el hecho de escapar a la soledad, la imitación resulta estridente.

If you treat each day as a gift, they can all feel like Christmas morning, not sure what you might unwrap next, but excited nonetheless.

Lessons are taught by your attitude in the face of challenge, not by overcoming the challenge or feigning perfection.

I cieli non sono umani e la vita sopra di me e sotto di me e dentro di me neppure.

The best way to kill a bad idea is to have a better one.

XII. If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk Above its mates, the head was chopped, the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? Tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents. XIII. As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare, Stood stupified, however he came there: Thrust out past service from the devil's stud! XIV. Alive? he might be dead for aught I knew, With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain. And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane; Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe; I never saw a brute I hated so; He must be wicked to deserve such pain. XV. I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart, As a man calls for wine before he fights, I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. Think first, fight afterwards, the soldier's art: One taste of the old time sets all to rights. XVI. Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face Beneath its garniture of curly gold, Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold An arm to mine to fix me to the place, The way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace! Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold. XVII. Giles then, the soul of honour - there he stands Frank as ten years ago when knighted first, What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. Good - but the scene shifts - faugh! what hangman hands Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst! XVIII. Better this present than a past like that: Back therefore to my darkening path again! No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. Will the night send a howlet or a bat? I asked: when something on the dismal flat Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train. XIX. A sudden little river crossed my path As unexpected as a serpent comes. No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms; This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath For the fiend's glowing hoof - to see the wrath Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes. XX. So petty yet so spiteful! All along, Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it; Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit Of mute despair, a suicidal throng: The river which had done them all the wrong, Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit. XXI. Which, while I forded - good saints, how I feared To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek, Each step, of feel the spear I thrust to seek For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard! - It may have been a water-rat I speared, But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek. XXII. Glad was I when I reached the other bank. Now for a better country. Vain presage! Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage, Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage - XXIII. The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque, What penned them there, with all the plain to choose? No footprint leading to that horrid mews, None out of it. Mad brewage set to work Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

მიახლოებითი შედარებითი ანალიზი გვიჩვენებს, რომ ქართველები არც ერთ ხალხზე არც უარესები და არც უკეთესები არა ვართ. ობიექტური კრიტერუმები ასეთ შედარებას არც შეიძლება ჰქონდეს. ყველა ხალხს ჰყოლია თითო-ოროლა გენიოსი მაინც. სულელები ყველგან მრავლადაა. ხოლო სხვა ქვეყნების მთავრობები, ხალხის არჩეულიც კი, ჩვენს მთავრობებზე არანაკლებ შეცდომებს უშვებდნენ, უშვებენ და დაუშვებენ.

Forever” by Logan Keeley October 18, 20xx Lying beside me in the failure of flesh, You wait for the words that will let your mind rest, But I’ve already left you—I’m inside this song, I’m chasing the rhythms that split right from wrong, Forming chords on your shoulder, tracing notes on your hips, I can’t hear your thoughts as they fall from your lips, and Every day I give away A piece of me all torn and frayed— What I can’t keep, I sell for cheap, Til nothing’s left for you and me— Chorus: How can so much love feel like nothing at all? How can so much nothing leave me dying to crawl To the foot of your bed, I should be with you—instead, I walk away, stumbling, waiting, always waiting to fall. When you look in my eyes, can you see I’m not there, Just skin over bones and this flesh that I bear, And there’s no room for you, and you know I can never Get out of myself, get over myself, For even one moment, much less for forever. They all take their shares and they all think they see This stranger inside who pretends to be me. They’re a roomful of mirrors in this funhouse of fame, I shrink and I grow, I am wild, I am tame, But when I stand before you, I can pause, I can heal, Because you make me matter—you make me real. Every day they took away A piece of me all torn and frayed— What I couldn’t keep, I sold for cheap, So now what’s left for you and me? How can so much love feel like nothing at all? How can so much nothing leave me dying to crawl To the foot of your bed, I should be with you—instead, I walk away, stumbling, waiting, always waiting to fall. So I close my eyes, fill my hands with your hair, It’s your skin and your bones and your flesh that I bear, If I could be part of you, if we could come together I could find myself, I could lose myself, Just for one moment, or maybe forever. They always say that nothing lasts forever Well, can this nothing last forever Now? When you look in my eyes, and this time I’m there, More than skin over bones and this flesh that we bare, When I’m getting worse, when you make me better, We’ll find ourselves, we’ll lose ourselves, We’ll take this one moment…and make it forever.

Primele încercări de predare a unei limbi, mă refer la engleză, cimpanzeilor datează abia din secolul XX. Toate au dat greş, inclusiv una dintre cele mai cunoscute, făcută pe la sfârşitul anilor '40 de o familie de cercetători americani, Hayes, care au crescut un cimpanzeu, pe Vicky, ca pe copilul lor. Degeaba. După luni şi luni de învăţare, Vicky bolborosea vag patru cuvinte: tata, mama, pahar, sus. «Tată, mamă, să ridicăm un pahar». Sigur, fraza e foarte utilă la aniversări, dar cam atât.

Just as maniacs, who never enjoy tranquility, so also he who is resentful and retains an enemy will never have the enjoyment of any peace; incessantly raging and daily increasing the tempest of his thoughts calling to mind his words and acts, and detesting the very name of him who has aggrieved him. Do you but mention his enemy, he becomes furious at once, and sustains much inward anguish; and should he chance to get only a bare sight of him, he fears and trembles, as if encountering the worst evils, Indeed, if he perceives any of his relations, if but his garment, or his dwelling, or street, he is tormented by the sight of them. For as in the case of those who are beloved, their faces, their garments, their sandals, their houses, or streets, excite us, the instant we behold them; so also should we observe a servant, or friend, or house, or street, or any thing else belonging to those We hate and hold our enemies, we are stung by all these things; and the strokes we endure from the sight of each one of them are frequent and continual. What is the need then of sustaining such a siege, such torment and such punishment? For if hell did not threaten the resentful, yet for the very torment resulting from the thing itself we ought to forgive the offences of those who have aggrieved us. But when deathless punishments remain behind, what can be more senseless than the man, who both here and there brings punishment upon himself, while he thinks to be revenged upon his enemy! Homilies on the Statues, Homily XX

En los siglos XIX y XX, la revolución industrial se desarrolló con la suficiente lentitud para que políticos y votantes se mantuvieran un paso por delante y regularan y manipularan su trayectoria. Pero mientras que el ritmo de la política no ha cambiado mucho desde los tiempos del vapor, la tecnología ha pasado de la primera marcha a la cuarta. Las revoluciones tecnológicas dejan ahora rezagados a los procesos políticos, lo que hace que tanto los miembros del Parlamento como los votantes pierdan el control.

Still men be clever and in an hundred centuries or more, perchance will have found a way to journey thither; when that they have discovered and understood all things on the earth. What will a man be like in the xxvii century, or even the xx? Very like unto us, I do expect; I do not think that man’s nature shall change; nor do I anticipate that he will be the wiser than we, for all his learning, for ‘tis a part of that nature which is ours that we do not heed the lessons of history: neither our own, nor the world’s.

En sus orígenes, la industria de las películas se limitaba a contar historias tan simples que rozaban la idiocia: jardineros que se mojaban con sus propias mangueras, obreros que se caían de los andamios… Pero entonces llegó el sonido. De la noche a la mañana los personajes tenían que hablar, y aquello fue un verdadero contratiempo porque nadie tenía la menor idea de qué podían decirse. —Buenas tardes, cariño, ¿qué tal en el trabajo? —Normal, ¿y tú? —Normal, ya sabes. —Genial. —Sí… ¿Quién demonios pagaría por algo así? La realidad no le interesa a nadie, todo el mundo tiene demasiado de eso, es lo único que a todos nos sobra. No, los personajes de las películas tenían que decirse cosas que la gente no escuchase a diario, algo original, diferente, raro pero no excéntrico, llamativo pero creíble. Algo hermoso. Así fue como nació la combinación de palabras que más beneficios generaría a la industria del entretenimiento durante el siglo XX y XXI. Una frase que acabaría convirtiéndose en la más repetida de la historia del cine y quién sabe si también de la historia de la humanidad: I love you.

The Absolute is Consciousness. It is always Self-conscious, meaning it is always aware of itself and its divine nature. The Self-awareness of the Absolute is a subtle form of activity which has two essential qualities. First, Consciousness is Self-luminous; the light of Consciousness (prakasa) requires no other source of illumination. This is Its aspect of jnana or knowing. Second, the process of becoming aware of Itself (vimarsa) is the Absolute’s aspect of action (kriya). The action is a kind of subtle stir that gives rise to joy and the creative impulse. This subtle movement is not a physical motion or any form of mental restlessness. Rather, it can be described as a spiritual stirring that corresponds to the sensation everyone has at moments of direct self-awareness during peak experiences. This stirring of Self-awareness is spanda. It makes Absolute Consciousness vibrant and expansive, and it is this activity that is the basic source of all creative manifestation. Everything that exists, sentient and insentient, is a result of this stirring of spanda. — B. N. Pandit, Specific Principles of Kashmir Shaivism (3rd ed., 2008), p. xx-xxi

La destrucción del pasado, o más bien de los mecanismos sociales que vinculan la experiencia contemporánea del individuo con la de generaciones anteriores, es uno de los fenómenos más característicos y extraños de las postrimerías del siglo XX. En su mayor parte, los jóvenes, hombres y mujeres, de este final de siglo crecen en una suerte de presente permanente sin relación orgánica alguna con el pasado del tiempo en el que viven, Esto otorga a los historiadores, cuya tarea consiste en recordar lo que otros olvidan, mayor trascendencia que la que han tenido nunca, en estos años finales del segundo milenio

Fortunately, the British security service had captured all German agents in Britain. Most of them had been ‘turned’ to send back misleading information to their controllers. This ‘Double Cross’ system, supervised by the XX Committee, was designed to produce a great deal of confusing ‘noise’ as a key part of Plan Fortitude. Fortitude was the most ambitious deception in the history of warfare, a project even greater than the maskirovka then being prepared by the Red Army to conceal the true target of Operation Bagration, Stalin’s summer offensive to encircle and smash the Wehrmacht’s Army Group Centre in Belorussia. Plan

P.D. MAYORITARIA QUE SE DISFRAZA DE MINORÍA INTOLERADA. A todo esto de que si Marcos es homosexual: Marcos es gay en San Francisco, negro en Sudáfrica, asiático en Europa, chicano en San Isidro, anarquista en España, palestino en Israel, indígena en las calles de San Cristóbal, chavo banda en Neza, rockero en cu, judío en Alemania, ombusdman en la Sedena, feminista en los partidos políticos, comunista en la post guerra fría, preso en Cintalapa, pacifista en Bosnia, mapuche en los Andes, maestro en la CNTE, artista sin galería ni portafolios, ama de casa un sábado por la noche en cualquier colonia de cualquier ciudad de cualquier México, guerrillero en el México de fin del siglo XX, huelguista en la CTM, reportero de nota de relleno en interiores, machista en el movimiento feminista, mujer sola en el metro a las 10 p.m., jubilado en plantón en el Zócalo, campesino sin tierra, editor marginal, obrero desempleado, médico sin plaza, estudiante inconforme, disidente en el neoliberalismo, escritor sin libros ni lectores, y, es seguro, zapatista en el sureste mexicano. En fin, Marcos es un ser humano, cualquiera, en este mundo. Marcos es todas las minorías intoleradas, oprimidas, resistiendo, explotando, diciendo "¡Ya basta!". Todas las minorías a la hora de hablar y mayorías a la hora de callar y aguantar. Todos los intolerados buscando una palabra, su palabra, lo que devuelva la mayoría a los eternos fragmentados, nosotros. Todo lo que incomoda al poder y a las buenas conciencias, eso es Marcos.

desarrollamos un algoritmo que cumpla mejor la misma función, las experiencias humanas perderán su valor. Así, si podemos sustituir no solo a taxistas y a médicos, sino también a abogados, a poetas y a músicos con programas informáticos superiores, ¿por qué habría de preocuparnos que dichos programas no tengan conciencia ni experiencias subjetivas? Si algún humanista empezara a adular el carácter sagrado de la experiencia humana, los dataístas rechazarían esas bobadas sentimentales. «La experiencia que alabas no es más que un algoritmo bioquímico anticuado. Hace setenta mil años, en la sabana africana, este algoritmo era de última generación. Incluso en el siglo XX era vital para el ejército y para la economía. Pero pronto tendremos algoritmos mucho mejores.»

Behold, we go up to Jerusalem. Matt. xx. 18. Never had there been such a going up to Jerusalem as that which Jesus here proposes to His disciples. He goes up voluntarily. The act was not enforced by any external compulsion. Jerusalem might at this time have been avoided. It was deliberately sought. It was a going up to a triumph to be reached through defeat, a coronation to be attained through ignominy and humiliation. O believer, in your walk through the world today, be strengthened, be comforted, be inspired, by the spectacle of the Captain of your salvation thus going up to Jerusalem! And remember, in all those apparently downward passages of your life, where sorrow, and it may be death, lie before you, that all such descents, made or endured in the Spirit of Jesus, are really upgoing steps, leading you to the mount of God and the resurrection glory.

Draco!” — “What?” The blonde asked, irritation clear in his voice, even if he didn't turn around to face Harry. — “Tomorrow before lunch, Nev and I will be at the library; we’ll be researching on how to beat a dragon into a pulp,“ he explained, admittedly exaggerating a little, “so we shouldn't bore you completely.“ — “What are you even saying, Potter?“ Draco asked, while Neville looked at him as if the blonde Slytherin had beaten him to the punch on asking the same question. — “You could come over and not like us there, if you want.“ Draco seemingly stopped breathing for a moment. — “Why the hell not?“ He asked nobody in specific, before storming out of the clearing and back towards Hogsmeade. — “You know what, I'm not even going to ask what happened." Neville commented, five minutes later when he had managed to find his voice. "This is beyond the realm of possible things.

Pongámonos de acuerdo en qué es la igualdad, pues si la libertad es la cima, la igualdad es la base. La igualdad, ciudadanos, no es que toda la vegetación esté enrasada, una sociedad de hierbas largas y de robles bajos; un vecindario de envidias que se castren entre sí; es, en el ámbito civil, que todas las aptitudes tengan las mismas oportunidades; en el ámbito político, es que todos los votos valgan lo mismo; en el ámbito religioso, es que todas las conciencias tengan los mismos derechos. La Igualdad tiene un órgano: la instrucción gratuita y obligatoria. El derecho al alfabeto, por ahí es por donde hay que empezar. La escuela primaria obligatoria para todos; la escuela secundaria brindada a todos, ésa es la ley. De la escuela idéntica sale la sociedad igual. ¡La enseñanza, sí! ¡Luz! ¡Luz! Todo viene de la luz y todo va a la luz. Ciudadanos, el siglo XIX es grande, pero el siglo XX será feliz. Y ya no pasará nada que tenga que ver con la historia vieja; no tendremos ya que temer, como ahora, una conquista, una invasión, una usurpación, una rivalidad a mano armada de naciones, una interrupción de la civilización que dependa de un matrimonio de reyes, de un nacimiento en el seno de las tiranías hereditarias, de un reparto de pueblos obra de un congreso, de un desmembramiento porque se hunda una dinastía, de un combate entre dos religiones que choquen de frente como dos carneros del reino de la oscuridad, en el puente de lo infinito; no tendremos ya que temer la hambruna, ni la explotación, ni la prostitución fruto de la desesperación ni el desvalimiento, ni la miseria fruto del paro, ni el patíbulo, ni la espada, ni las batallas, ni todos los robos de salteador del azar en el bosque de los acontecimientos. Casi podríamos decir que ya no habrá acontecimientos. Los hombres serán felices. El género humano cumplirá su ley como cumple la suya el globo terrestre; se restablecerá la armonía entre el alma y el astro; el alma gravitará en torno a la verdad igual que el astro en torno a la luz.

(…) Vagy fél évszada a publikum már nem tekint örömteli várakozással valamely szimfonikus mű vagy opera bemutatása elé. Ha ez a kijelentés túl erősnek látszik, lőjenek vissza, és emlékeztessenek a ragyogó kivételekre, mint amilyen a Porgy és Bess (vajon show-dallamokból születhet-e opera?); Sosztakovics 7. szimfóniája (a háborús lelkesedést szinte a hisztériáig szította a rádióállomások vetélkedője); a Mahagonny (e helyi, szinte politikai jelenség)… Folytathatnánk, ám e művek kivételek, és az elragadtatás oka többnyire nem zenei eredetű. Megmarad az a visszataszító tény, hogy a zeneszerzőt és közönségét valóságos óceán választja el egymástól, és így van ez mintegy fél évszázad óta. Tudnak-e a reneszánsz óta eltelt bármely ötvenéves időszakról, amikor hasonló helyzet állt volna elő? Én nem. És ha ez igaz, drámai minőségi változást jelez zenei társadalmunkban, nevezetesen azt, hogy először élünk olyan zenei életet, amely nem alapszik a kortárs zenén. Ez tisztára XX. századi jelenség, korábban sohasem volt így.

Y ya aparece la palabra clave: liberación: «En toda nuestra acción, nuestra meta debe ser la liberación del hombre de cualquier forma de servidumbre que lo oprima. Deseamos que todos nuestros esfuerzos confluyan hacia la construcción de una sociedad en la que el pueblo sea integrado con todos sus derechos de igualdad y libertad no solamente políticos, sino también culturales y religiosos». La carta añadía una renuncia a toda posible actitud burguesa y a relaciones de los jesuitas «con las clases privilegiadas». Los provinciales eran conscientes de que este estilo despertaría reacciones inevitables: «No las provocaremos nosotros con actitudes partidistas, pero continuaremos en la predicación del evangelio de los pobres, cualesquiera que fueran estas reacciones». Y se comprometían a «transformaciones audaces, que renueven radicalmente las estructuras». La carta rechazaba al mismo tiempo las actitudes violentas que «si se inspiran en la frustración y el odio, y no en la reflexión de la conciencia y el amor cristiano

Este enigma fue explorado en la película Star Trek: la próxima generación, en la que se encuentra una cápsula del siglo XX flotando en el espacio exterior. Dentro de la cápsula se encuentran los cuerpos de personas que sufrieron enfermedades que eran incurables en aquellos tiempos primitivos, y fueron congeladas con la esperanza de poder revivir en el futuro. Los médicos de la nave espacial Enterprise curan rápidamente a esos individuos de sus enfermedades y les hacen revivir. Esas personas afortunadas se sorprenden al ver que su aventura ha valido la pena, pero una de ellas es un astuto capitalista. Lo primero que pregunta es: «¿En qué siglo estamos?». Al saber que ha vuelto a la vida en el siglo XXIV, se da cuenta rápidamente de que sus inversiones, después de tanto tiempo, han de valer una fortuna. Pide de inmediato ponerse en contacto con su banquero en la Tierra, pero la tripulación del Enterprise está desconcertada. ¿Dinero? ¿Inversiones? Eso no existe en el futuro. En el siglo XXIV basta con pedir una cosa para que nos la den al momento.

Hoy nos cuesta comprender esta advertencia de los puericultores de principios del siglo XX. ¿Cómo pudieron los expertos no apreciar que los niños tienen necesidades emocionales, y que su salud mental y física depende de cubrir estas necesidades tanto como las de alimento, refugio y medicinas? Pero cuando se trata de otros mamíferos, seguimos negando lo evidente. Al igual que John Watson y los expertos de Infant Care, los ganaderos, a lo largo de la historia, se han ocupado de las necesidades materiales de cochinillos, terneros y cabritos, pero han tendido a obviar sus necesidades emocionales. Así, las industrias cárnicas y lácteas se basan en quebrar el vínculo emocional más fundamental del reino de los mamíferos. Los granjeros fecundan continuamente a sus cerdas reproductoras y a sus vacas lecheras. Pero los cochinillos y los terneros son separados de la madre al poco de nacer, y por lo general viven sin siquiera mamar de sus pezones, y sin sentir el cálido contacto de su lengua y su cuerpo. Lo que Harry Harlow hizo a unos cuantos centenares de monos lo hacen las industrias cárnica y láctea todos los años a miles de millones de animales.[24]

I answer that, As is clear from what has been said above (Q[110], A[4]), if we take a miracle in the strict sense, the demons cannot work miracles, nor can any creature, but God alone: since in the strict sense a miracle is something done outside the order of the entire created nature, under which order every power of a creature is contained. But sometimes miracle may be taken in a wide sense, for whatever exceeds the human power and experience. And thus demons can work miracles, that is, things which rouse man's astonishment, by reason of their being beyond his power and outside his sphere of knowledge. For even a man by doing what is beyond the power and knowledge of another, leads him to marvel at what he has done, so that in a way he seems to that man to have worked a miracle. It is to be noted, however, that although these works of demons which appear marvelous to us are not real miracles, they are sometimes nevertheless something real. Thus the magicians of Pharaoh by the demons' power produced real serpents and frogs. And "when fire came down from heaven and at one blow consumed Job's servants and sheep; when the storm struck down his house and with it his children---these were the work of Satan, not phantoms"; as Augustine says (De Civ. Dei xx, 19).

The office divinely committed to Us of feeding the Lord’s flock has especially this duty assigned to it by Christ, namely, to guard with the greatest vigilance the deposit of the faith delivered to the saints, rejecting the profane novelties of words and oppositions of knowledge falsely so called. There has never been a time when this watchfulness of the supreme pastor was not necessary to the Catholic body; for, owing to the efforts of the enemy of the human race, there have never been lacking “men speaking perverse things” (Acts xx. 30), “vain talkers and seducers” (Tit. i. 10), “erring and driving into error” (2 Tim. iii. 13). Still it must be confessed that the number of the enemies of the cross of Christ has in these last days increased exceedingly, who are striving, by arts, entirely new and full of subtlety, to destroy the vital energy of the Church, and, if they can, to overthrow utterly Christ’s kingdom itself. Wherefore We may no longer be silent, lest We should seem to fail in Our most sacred duty, and lest the kindness that, in the hope of wiser counsels, We have hitherto shown them, should be attributed to forgetfulness of Our office. GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION 2. That We make no delay in this matter is rendered necessary especially by the fact that the partisans of error are to be sought not only among the Church’s open enemies; they lie hid, a thing to be deeply deplored and feared, in her very bosom and heart, and are the more mischievous, the less conspicuously they appear.

Ce se întîmplă cu tine, băiete? mă întrebă. Vorbea destul de aspru pentru felul lui de a fi. Cîte materii ai urmat în trimestrul ăsta? ― Cinci, domnule profesor. ― Cinci? Şi la cîte ai căzut? ― La patru. Îmi amorţise fundul stînd pe pat. În viaţa mea nu stătusem pe un pat atît de tare. ― La engleză am trecut, i-am spus, fiindcă poveştile cu Beowulf şi cu Lord Randal, fiul meu le-am învăţat încă de pe vremea cînd eram la Whooton. Şi, de fapt, la engleză nu trebuia să fac mai nimic, decît să scriu din cînd în cînd cîte o compunere. Bătrînul nici nu mă asculta. N-asculta niciodată cînd îi vorbeai. ― Eu unul te-am trîntit la istorie fiindcă n-ai ştiut absolut nimic. ― Ştiu, domnule profesor, vă înţeleg. Ce era să faceţi? ― Absolut nimic, repetă el. Tare mă înfurie cînd oamenii repetă de două ori un lucru pe care tu l-ai recunoscut de prima dată. Şi pe urmă a mai spus-o şi a treia oară. ― Dar absolut nimic. Ai deschis cartea măcar o dată, în trimestrul ăsta? Eu mă îndoiesc. Spune drept! ― Păi, ştiţi, am răsfoit-o... de vreo două ori, am spus. Nu voiam să-l jignesc. Îi plăcea istoria la nebunie! ― A, ai răsfoit-o! spuse el foarte ironic. Uite, hm, teza ta e acolo sus pe raft, deasupra teancului de caiete. Ad-o, te rog, încoace. Era o figură urîtă din partea lui. Dar n-am avut încotro, m-am dus şi i-am adus-o. Pe urmă, m-am aşezat din nou pe patul lui de ciment. Mamă, nici nu ştiţi ce rău începuse să-mi pară că venisem să-mi iau rămas bun. Ţinea lucrarea mea de parc-ar fi fost o bucată de rahat sau mai ştiu eu ce. ― Am studiat cu voi egiptenii de la 4 noiembrie la 2 de¬cembrie, îmi zise. Singur ai ales să scrii despre ei la lucrarea facultativă de control. Vrei să auzi ce-ai scris? ― Nu, domnule profesor, nu face, i-am răspuns. Cu toate astea, începu să citească. Nu poţi opri niciodată un profesor să facă un anumit lucru, dacă s-a hotărît să-l facă. Oricum, face tot ce vrea el! Egiptenii sînt o rasă veche de caucazieni care locuiesc într-una din regiunile din nordul Africii. Africa, după cum ştim cu toţii, e cel mai mare continent în emisfera răsăriteană. Şi eu eram obligat să stau şi s-ascult toate tîmpeniile astea! Zău că era urît din partea lui. Pe noi, astăzi, egiptenii ne interesează din mai multe motive. Ştiinţa modernă n-a descoperit nici pînă azi ce substanţe misterioase întrebuinţau cînd îmbălsămau morţii, pentru ca feţele lor să nu putrezească secole la rînd. Această enigmă interesantă continuă să constituie o sfidare pentru ştiinţa modernă a secolului XX. Se opri şi puse jos lucrarea. Începusem să-l urăsc! ― Eseul tău, ca să-i zicem aşa, se opreşte aici, spuse cît se poate de ironic. N-ai crede că un tip atît de bătrîn poate fi atît de ironic şi aşa mai departe. Apoi adăugă: Şi în josul paginii mi-ai scris şi mie cîteva cuvinte. ― Ştiu, ştiu, i-am răspuns precipitat, ca să-l opresc înainte de a-ncepe să citească. Dar parcă mai putea cineva să-l oprească?! Ardea ca un fitil de dinamită. Dragă domnule Spencer (citi el cu glas tare), asta e tot ce ştiu eu despre egipteni. Nu reuşesc să mă intereseze, cu toate că dumneavoastră predaţi foarte frumos. Să ştiţi totuşi că nu mă supăr dacă mă trîntiţi ― că în afară de engleză tot am picat la toate materiile. Cu stimă, al dumnea¬voastră, Holden Caulfield. În sfîrşit, a pus jos lucrarea mea nenorocită şi mi-a arun¬cat o privire de parcă m-ar fi bătut măr la ping-pong sau mai ştiu eu ce. Cît oi trăi nu cred c-am să-l iert c-a citit cu glas tare toate rahaturile alea. Dacă le-ar fi scris el, eu unul nu i le-aş fi citit niciodată. Zău că nu. Şi, de fapt, nu-i scrisesem notiţa aia nenorocită decît ca să nu-i pară prea rău că mă trînteşte. ― Mă condamni că te-am trîntit, băiete? m-a întrebat el. ― Nu, domnule profesor, zău că nu! i-am răspuns eu. Numai de-ar fi încetat naibii să-mi mai zică "băiete"!

Naturalmente questa invasione della campagna creò da principio complessi problemi di organizzazione, che avrebbero portato a un'enorme miseria, se il popolo fosse stato ancora schiavo del monopolio di classe. Ma così come stavano le cose, la situazione si assestò presto da sola. Una per una le persone scoprirono quali erano i loro interessi e rinunciarono a imporsi occupazioni in cui non avrebbero assolutamente potuto riuscire. È vero che la città invase la campagna, ma gli invasori, come gli antichi guerrieri, si lasciarono influenzare dal nuovo ambiente e si trasformarono in agricoltori; diventando poi più numerosi dei cittadini, a loro volta finirono per influenzare anche questi ultimi; così la differenza fra campagna e città si attenuò sempre di più. E fu proprio questo mondo agricolo, vivificato dal pensiero e dall'attività della gente di città, che permise il sorgere di questa vita serena, agiata ma produttiva, di cui voi stesso avete avuto una prima esperienza. Come vi ripeto, abbiamo compiuto molti errori, ma col tempo siamo riusciti a correggerli. Ai tempi della mia infanzia la gente doveva ancora lavorare parecchio. Le idee mature della prima metà del secolo XX, quando gli uomini erano ancora ossessionati dal terrore della miseria e non sapevano apprezzare, come noi oggi, i piaceri della vita di tutti i giorni, distrussero molte delle bellezze ambientali che ci erano state lasciate dall'epoca del commercio; e devo ammettere che gli uomini si risollevarono solo molto lentamente dai danni che essi stessi si erano procurati, anche dopo aver conquistato la libertà. Ma per quanto lentamente, la guarigione venne, doveva venire; e più ci conoscerete, più vi accorgerete di quanto noi oggi siamo felici: viviamo circondati dalla bellezza senza alcun timore di diventare rammolliti, siamo sempre impegnatissimi e la cosa ci riempie di gioia. Che cosa si potrebbe domandare di più dalla vita?

Hay un pequeño diálogo encantador entre los dichos y parábolas del sabio taoísta Chuang-tzu, que vivió alrededor de 300 a.C. Se titula La alegría del pez: Un día, Chuang-tzu se paseaba con su amigo Hui-tzu por el puente sobre el río Hao. Chuang-tzu dijo: - Cuán alegremente saltan y juegan los ágiles peces! Esta es la alegría del pez. Hui-tzu comentó: - No eres un pez, así que ¿cómo puedes saber acerca de la alegría del pez? Hui-tzu contestó: - No soy tú, por lo que no puedo conocerte del todo. Pero sigue siendo cierto que no eres un pez; por tanto, está perfectamente claro que no puedes saber acerca de la alegría del pez. Chuang-tzu dijo: - Volvamos al punto de partida, por favor. Tú dijiste "¿Cómo puedes saber acerca de la alegría del pez?" Pero tú ya lo sabías y aún así preguntaste. Conozco la alegría del pez por mi propia alegría al contemplarlos desde el puente. La conversación debe de haber sido proverbial en China, pues unos mil años más tarde, el gran poeta Po Chü-i (772-846) escribió dos breves estrofas de un comentario escéptico titulado Reflexiones junto al estanque: En vano Chuan y Hui discutieron en el puente sobre el Hao: Las mentes humanas no conocen necesariamente las mentes de otras criaturas Una nutria viene atrapando peces, el pez salta: ¡Esto no es placer de peces, es sobresalto de peces! El agua es poco profunda, los peces escasos, la garceta blanca está hambrienta: Concentrada, los ojos muy abiertos, espera a los peces. Desde fuera parece tranquila, pero por dentro está tensa: Las cosas no son lo que parece, pero ¿quién lo sabría? Lo que dice el poeta es que si él hubiera estado en el puente, habría advertido al sabio que no se fiase demasiado de su intuición. La fuerza de las convicciones subjetivas no es un salvavidas contra los errores. nunca sabemos realmente si tenemos razón, pero a veces sabemos que estábamos equivocados. Extraído de: E. H. GOMBRICH. Temas de nuestro tiempo. Propuestas del siglo XX. Acerca del saber y del Arte. Debate, 1997. p. 56 - 57 (Topics of our Time)

Monday, September 17, 1945 We all drove to the airfield in the morning to see Gay and Murnane off in the C-47 /belonging to the Army. Then General Eisenhower and I drove to Munich where we inspected in conjunction with Colonel Dalferes a Baltic displaced persons camp. The Baltic people are the best of the displaced persons and the camp was extremely clean in all respects. Many of the people were in costume and did some folk dances and athletic contest for our benefit. We were both, I think, very much pleased with conditions here. The camp was situated in an old German regular army barracks and they were using German field kitchens for cooking. From the Baltic camp, we drove for about 45 minutes to a Jewish camp in the area of the XX Corps. This camp was established in what had been a German hospital. The buildings were therefore in a good state of repair when the Jews arrived but were in a bad state of repair when we arrived, because these Jewish DP's, or at least a majority of them, have no sense of human relationships. They decline, when practicable, to use latrines, preferring to relive themselves on the floor. The hospital which we investigated was fairly good. They also had a number of sewing machines and cobbler instruments which they had collected, but since they had not collected the necessary parts, they had least fifty sewing machines they could not use, and which could not be used by anyone else because they were holding them. This happened to be the feast of Yom Kippur, so they were all collected in a large wooden building which they called a synagogue. It behooved General Eisenhower to make a speech to them. We entered the synagogue, which was packed with the greatest stinking bunch of humanity I have ever seen. When we got about half way up, the head rabbi, who was dressed in a fur hat similar to that worn by Henry VIII of England, and in a surplice heavily embroidered and very filthy, came down and met the General. A copy of Talmud, I think it is called, written on a sheet and rolled around a stick, was carried by one of the attending physicians. First, a Jewish civilian made a very long speech which nobody seemed inclined to translate. Then General Eisenhower mounted the platform and I went up behind him and he made a short and excellent speech, which was translated paragraph by paragraph. The smell was so terrible that I almost fainted, and actually about three hours later, lost my lunch as the result of remembering it. From here we went to the Headquarters of the XX Corps, where General Craig gave us an excellent lunch which I, however, was unable to partake of, owing to my nausea.