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Enero 28, 2006
being one's self...
What is unbearable in life is not being, but being one's self.
Milan Kundera
Posted by sarita at 10:22 AM
And it isn't enough for us to identify with our selves...
Why all this passion? Agnes asked herself, and she thought: When we are thrust out into the world just as we are, we first have to identify with that particular throw of the dice, with that accident organized by the divine computer: to get over our surprise that precisely this (what we see facing us in the mirror) is our self. Without the faith that our face expresses our self, without that basic illusion, that archillusion, we cannot live, or at least we cannot take life seriously. And it isn't enough for us to identify with our selves, it is necessary to do so passionately, to the point of life and death. Because only in this way can we regard ourselves not merely as a variant of the human prototype but as a being with its own irreplaceable essence. That's the reason the newcomer needed not only to draw her self-portrait but also to make it clear to all that it embodied something unique and irreplaceable, something worth fighting or even dying for.
Milan Kundera, from Immortality
Posted by sarita at 10:20 AM
Enero 26, 2006
There is nothing heavier than compassion...
There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels for someone, for someone, pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echos.
Milan Kundera, from The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Posted by sarita at 11:44 PM
the basis of shame...
The basis of shame is not some personal mistake of ours, but the ignominy, the humiliation we feel that we must be what we are without any choice in the matter, and that this humiliation is seen by everyone.
Milan Kundera, from Immortality
Posted by sarita at 11:43 PM
there are two sorts of curiosity...
There are two sorts of curiosity -- the momentary and the permanent. The momentary is concerned with the odd appearance on the surface of things. The permanent is attracted by the amazing and consecutive life that flows on beneath the surface of things.
Robert Lynd
Posted by sarita at 11:16 PM
Enero 23, 2006
a vulnerability, however concealed...
To approach sex carelessly, shallowly, with detachment and without warmth is to dine night after night in erotic greasy spoons. In time, one's palate will become insensitive, one will suffer (without knowing it) emotional malnutrition, the skin of the soul will fester with scurvy, the teeth of the heart will decay. Neither duration nor proclamation of commitment is necessarily the measure - there are ephemeral explosions of passion between strangers that make more erotic sense than many lengthy marriages, there are one-night stands in Jersey City more glorious than six-month affairs in Paris - but finally there is a commitment, however brief; a purity, however threatened; a vulnerability, however concealed; a generosity of spirit, however marbled with need; an honest caring, however singed by lust, that must be present if couplings are to be salubrious and not slow poison.
Tom Robbins again
Posted by sarita at 4:37 PM
When we're incomplete...
When we're incomplete, we're always searching for someone to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we're still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on and on - series polygamy - until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter. Hey, that's pretty good. If I had a pencil and paper, I'd write that down.
Tom Robbins, from Still Life with Woodpecker
Posted by sarita at 4:35 PM
Enero 21, 2006
XI Almost Out of Sky
Almost out of the sky, half of the moon
anchors between two mountains.
Turning, wandering night, the digger of eyes.
Let's see how many stars are smashed in the pool.
It makes a cross of mourning between my eyes, and runs away.
Forge of blue metals, nights of stilled combats,
my heart revolves like a crazy wheel.
Girl who have from so far, brought me so far,
sometimes you glance flashes out under the sky.
Rumbling, storm, cyclone of fury,
you cross above my heart without stopping.
Wind from the tombs carries off, wrecks, scatters your sleepy root.
The big trees on the other side of her, uprooted.
But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel.
You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves.
Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration,
ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything.
Longing that sliced my breast into pieces,
it is time to take another road, on which she does not smile.
Storm that buried the bells, muddy swirl of torments,
why touch her now, why make her sad.
Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything,
without anguish, death, winter waiting along it
with their eyes open through the dew.
Pablo Neruda
Posted by sarita at 10:02 AM
Enero 20, 2006
love is about choices...
Even now, I believe for the most part, love is about choices. It's about putting down the poison and the dagger and making your own happy ending, most of the time. And that sometimes, despite all your best choices and all your best intentions, fate wins anyway.
from Grey's Anatomy, courtesy Heidi.
Posted by sarita at 9:24 PM
Enero 16, 2006
Some Dreams Hang in the Air
some dreams hang in the air
like smoke. some dreams
get all in your clothes and
be wearing them more than you do and
you be half the time trying to
hold them and half the time
trying to wave them away.
their smell be all over you and
they get to your eyes and
you cry. the fire be gone
and the wood but some dreams
hang in the air like smoke
touching everything.
Lucille Clifton
Posted by sarita at 8:13 AM
Enero 12, 2006
The follies which a man regrets most...
The follies which a man regrets most, in his life, are those which he didn't
commit when he had the opportunity.
Helen Rowland
Posted by sarita at 12:37 PM
Enero 11, 2006
Proverbs 27
1 Boast not thyself of tomorrow: for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.
2 Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth: a stranger, and not thine own lips.
3 A stone is heavy, and the sand weighty: but a fool's wrath is heavier than them both.
4 Anger is cruel, and wrath is raging: but who can stand before envy?
5 Open rebuke is better than secret love.
6 The wounds of a lover are faithful, and the kisses of an enemy are pleasant.
7 The person that is full, despiseth an honeycomb: but unto the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet.
8 As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his own place.
9 As ointment and perfume rejoice the heart, so doeth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel.
10 Thine own friend and thy father's friend forsake thou not: neither enter into thy brother's house in the day of thy calamity: for better is a neighbor that is near, than a brother far off.
11 My son, be wise, and rejoice mine heart, that I may answer him that reproacheth me.
12 A prudent man seeth the plague, and hideth himself: but the foolish go on still, and are punished.
13 Take his garment that is surety for a stranger, and a pledge of him for the stranger.
14 He that praiseth his friend with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted to him as a curse.
15 A continual dropping in the day of rain, and a contentious woman are alike.
16 He that hideth her, hideth the wind, and she is as ye oil in his right hand, that uttereth itself.
From the Proverbs of Solomon, the Bible
Posted by sarita at 10:58 AM