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[Hyllien]

The Prophet
(Khalil Gibran)

Freedom
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?

Reason and Passion
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Friendship
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are
born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Talking
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

Prayer
You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
For what is prayer but the expansion of yourself into the living ether?
And if it is for your comfort to pour your darkness into space, it is also for your delight to pour forth the dawning of your heart.


Pleasure
Pleasure is a freedom-song,
But it is not freedom.
It is the blossoming of your desires,
But it is not their fruit.
It is a depth calling unto a height,
But it is not the deep nor the high.
It is the caged taking wing,
But it is not space encompassed.
Ay, in very truth, pleasure is a freedom-song.

Pse eshte levizur postimi i meparshem ne kete teme, per tek Poetry in Motion?

[Hyllien]

The Portable Nietzsche
(Tr. and ed. by Walter Kaufmann)

Women can form a friendship with a man very well; but to preserve it – to that end a slight physical antipathy must probably help.
*-*-*-*
When marrying, one should ask oneself this question: Do you believe that you will be able to converse well with this woman into your old age? Everything else in marriage is transitory, but the most time during the association belongs to conversation.
*-*-*-*
Inexperienced girls flatter themselves with the notion that it is within their power to make a man happy; later they learn that it means holding a man in low esteem to assume that only a girl is needed to make him happy. The vanity of women demands that a man be more than a happy husband.
(Duhet t'a kete fjalen per aktivitete te tjera, dhe jo per vajza te tjera. Ç'mund t'i jape nje mashkulli nje femer tjeter qe s'ia jep dot femra qe do? Let me count the answers...:D)

(Human, all too human pg. 59 in The Portable Nietzsche)

Po te lexosh pak per jeten e tij, mund te merret me mend pse ka menduar keshtu por:

The worst readers of aphorisms are the author’s friends if they are intent on guessing back from general to the particular instance to which the aphorism owes its origin; for with such pot-peeking they reduce the author’s whole effort to nothing; so that they deservedly gain not a philosophic outlook or instruction, but – at best, or at worst – nothing more than the satisfaction of vulgar curiosity.
(Mixed Opinions and Maxims No. 129 Pg. 65 in The Portable Nietzsche)

[DeLiRiUm TrEmEnS]

Jean-Paul Sartre "dirty hands" Act III

Hugo: It went on endlessly. Were you bored?
Jessica: Horribly.
Hugo: What did you do?
Jessica: I slept.
Hugo: Well, time does not hang heavy when you sleep.
Jessica: I dreamt that i was bored, and that woke me up and i unpacked the suitcases. How does the place look now? [She points to the jumble of clothes on the bed and the chairs.]
Hugo: I do not know. Is this arrangment temporary?
Jessica [firmly]: No, final.
Hugo: Very good.
Jessica: What do you think of him?
Hugo: Who?
Jessica: Hoeder.
Hugo: Hoeder? Like anybody else.
Jessica: How old is he?
Hugo: Middle-aged.
Jessica: Middle between what and what?
Hugo: Twenty and sixty.
Jessica: Tall or short?
Hugo: Medium.
Jessica: Any unusual features?
Hugo: A big scar, a wig, and a glass eye.
jessica: What a monster!
Hugo: I made it up. He's perfectly ordinary.
Jessica: You are just showing off. The truth is you couldn't describe him to me.
Hugo: Of course i could, if i wanted to.
Jessica: No, not even if you wanted to.
Hugo: Yes, i could.
Jessica: No. What color are his eyes?
Hugo: Gray.
Jessica: My poor baby, you think all eyes are gray. There are blue eyes and green eyes and hazel-colored eyes. There are even mauvre-colored eyes. What color are mine? [She covers her eyes with her hand.] Don't look.
Hugo: They are two silk pavilions, two Andalusian gardens, two moonfish.
Jessica: I asked you to tell me their color.
Hugo: Blue.
Jessica: You looked.
Hugo: No, but you told me this morning.
Jessica: Idiot. [She comes closer to him.] Now, think carefully, Hugo: Has he a mustache?
Hugo: No. [A pause.]I'm sure he hasn't.
Jessica [sadly]: I wish i could believe you.
Hugo [reflects a moment, then blurts out suddenly]: He wore a polka-dot tie.
Jessica: Polka-dot?
Hugo: Polka-dot.
Jessica: Go 'way with you.
Hugo: You know the kind. [He pretends he is looping a fancy ascot.]
Jessica: You crawled before him, you gave in! All the while he was talking to you, you were looking at his tie. Hugo, he intimidated you!
Hugo: He did not!
Jessica: He intimidated you!
Hugo: The fact is, he's not intimidating.
Jessica: Then why did you look at his tie?
Hugo: In order not to intimidate him.
Jessica: Uh-huh. But when i see him and and you want to know what he looks like, you only have to ask me. What did he say to you?
Hugo: I told him that my father was vice-president of the Tosk Coke Manufacturers and that i broke with him to enter the party.
Jessica: And what did he say to that?
Hugo: He said that was fine.
Jessica: And then?
Hugo: I didn't conceal from him that i have my doctorate, but i made him understand that i am not an intellectual, that i am not ashamed to work as a clerk, and that my special point of honor is to require of myself the strictest discipline and obedience.
Jessica: And what did he say to that?
Hugo: He said that was fine too.
Jessica: An that took two hours?
Hugo: There were moments of silence.
Jessica: You are one of those people who always repeat what you say to others and never what others say to you.
Hugo: That's because i think you are more interested in me than in others.
Jessica: Of course, my baby. But i have you. I don't have the others.
Hugo: Do you want Hoederer?
Jessica: I want to have everybody.
Hugo: Hmmm. But he's vulgar.
Jessica: How do you know if you did not look at him?
Hugo: You have to be vulgar to wear a polka-dot tie.
Jessica: The greek empresses slept with barbarian generals.
Hugo: There were no empresses in Greece.
Jessica: Then they were in Byzantium.
Hugo: In Byzantium there were barbarian generals and Greek empresses, but no one reports what they did together.
Jessica: What else could they do? [A brief silence.] Did he ask you what i'm like?
Hugo: No.
jessica: You wouldn't have been able to tell him anything anyway: You don't know anything about me. Didn't he ask about me at all?
Hugo: No, nothing.
Jessica: He has no manners.
Hugo: You see. Anyway, there is no use you being interested in him now.
Jessica: Why?
Hugo: You'll keep you mouth shut?
Jessica: I'll holld it shut with both hands.
Hugo: He is going to die.
Jessica: Is he sick?
Hugo: No, but he is going to be assassinated - like all men in politics.
Jessica: Ah! [ A pause.] And you, my little pet - are you in politics?
Hugo: Certainly.
Jessica: And what is there for the widow of a political man to do?
Hugo: She can join her husband's party and complete his work.
Jessica: Good Lord! I would rather kill myself beside your grave.
Hugo: Nowdays that only happens in Malabar.
Jessica: Then here is what i would do: I would track down your assassins one by one, then i would make them burn with love for me, and when they begin to think that they could console my haughty, despairing grief, i would stick a knife in their hearts.
Hugo: Which would you enjoy more? Killing them or seducing them?
Jessica: You are stupid and vulgar.
Hugo: I thought you liked vulgar men. [Jessica doesn't reply.] Are we playing our little game or not?
Jessica: This isn't playing any more. ...

[leci]

"E cosi,conquistando insieme la consapevolezza e le leggerezza,la profondità e lo sguardo ironico su se stessa e sul mondo,Agata arriva a capire che la linea d'ombra,la misteriosa terra di mezzo che deve attraversare,è quella che apre il passaggio dagli sguardi degli altri al proprio occhio interiore"

"Cercavo gli sguardi fissi su di me,li sentivo,li "sapevo" tutt'attorno,ma,poichè gli sguardi sono inbisibili,ciò che vidi attraverso loro come attraverso l'aria ero io stessa,di colpo visibile a me stessa.
..non mi importò che fosse tutto un equivoco,che tanto io quanto i miei inseguitori cercassimo qualcosa che la controparte non poteva dare..


L'essenziale è invisibile agli occhi

Jarmila Ockayovà

[Fiori]

The name of the rose - Umberto Eco

"What does that matter? The Devil i stubborn, he follows a pattern in his snares and his seductions, he repeats his rituals a distance of millennia, he is always the same, this is precisely why he is recognized as the enemy! ..."
...

"Monkeys do not laugh; laughter is proper to man, it is a sign of his rationality," William said.

"Speach is also a sign of human rationality, and with speech a man can blaspheme against God. Not everything that is proper to man is necessarily good. He who laughs does not believe in what he laughs at, but neither does he hate it. Therefore, laughing at evil means not preparing oneself to combat it, and laughing at good means denying the power through which good is self-propagating. This is why the Rule says, 'The tenth degree of humility is not to be quick to laughter, as it is written: stultus in risu exaltat vocem suam.' "

"Quintilian," my master interrupted, "says that laughter is to be repressed in the panegyric, for the sake of dignity, but it is to be encouraged in many other cases. Pliny the Younger wrote, 'Sometimes I laugh, I jest, I play, because I am a man.' "

[Hyllien]

The Sorrows of Young Werther
(Goethe)

JULY 13.

No, I am not deceived. In her dark eyes I read a genuine interest in me and in my fortunes. Yes, I feel it; and I may believe my own heart which tells me -- dare I say it? -- dare I pronounce the divine words? -- that she loves me!
That she loves me! How the idea exalts me in my own eyes! And, as you can understand my feelings, I may say to you, how I honour myself since she loves me!
Is this presumption, or is it a consciousness of the truth? I do not know a man able to supplant me in the heart of Charlotte; and yet when she speaks of her betrothed with so much warmth and affection, I feel like the soldier who has been stripped of his honours and titles, and deprived of his sword.

Kush deshiron mund te lexoje pak me gjate ne skedarin e bashkangjitur.

[Dara]

It was late that evening when K. arrived. The village was deep in the snow. The Castle hill was hidden, veiled in mist and darkness, nor was there even a glimmer of light to show that a castle was there. On the wooden bridge leading from the main road to the village, K. stood for a long time gazing into the illusory emptiness...

--The Castle, Kafka

[Cupke_pe_Korce]

The Sorrows of Young Werther
(Goethe)

JULY 13.

No, I am not deceived. In her dark eyes I read a genuine interest in me and in my fortunes. Yes, I feel it; and I may believe my own heart which tells me -- dare I say it? -- dare I pronounce the divine words? -- that she loves me!
That she loves me! How the idea exalts me in my own eyes! And, as you can understand my feelings, I may say to you, how I honour myself since she loves me!
Is this presumption, or is it a consciousness of the truth? I do not know a man able to supplant me in the heart of Charlotte; and yet when she speaks of her betrothed with so much warmth and affection, I feel like the soldier who has been stripped of his honours and titles, and deprived of his sword.

Kush deshiron mund te lexoje pak me gjate ne skedarin e bashkangjitur.

August 30

Foolish fellow that I am! Why do I deceive myself? What is to come of all this wild, endless passion? I cannot pray except to her. My imagination sees nothing but her; nothing matters except what has to do with her. In this state of mind I enjoy many happy hours, till at length I feel compelled to tear myself away from her. Ah, Wilhelm, to what lengths does my heart often drive me! When I have spent several hours in her company, till I feel completely absorbed by her figure, her grace, the divine expression of her thoughts, my mind becomes deeply excited, my sight grows deem, my hearing confused, my breathing oppressed as if by the hand of an assassin, and my beating heart seeks relief for my aching senses. I am sometimes uncertain whether I really exist. If in such moments I find no sympathy, and Charlotte does not allow me to enjoy the melancholy consolation of bathing her hands in my tears, I tear myself from her and roam through the country, climb some precipitous cliff, or make a path through a trackless wood, where I am wounded and torn by thorns and berries; and there I find some relief. Sometimes I lay down on the way, overcome with fatigue and thirst; sometimes late in the night, when the full moon stands above me in the lonely woods, I sit on a crooked tree to rest my weary limbs, and there, exhausted and worn, I fall asleep in the subdued light. Oh Wilhelm! The hermit’s cell, his sackcloth and belt of thorns would be relief compared with what I suffer. Adieu! I see no end to this wretchedness except the grave.

[EXODUS]

She fretted him to the bottom of his soul. Yet he caused her sorow, too. Half the time he grieved about her, half the time he hated her because she stinked of silent pride. She was his conscience, and he felt somehow, he had a conscience that was too much for him. He could not leave her because in one way she did hold the best of him. He could not stay with her because she did not take the rest of him, which was three-quarters. So he chafed himself into rawness over her. . .

- D.H. Lawrence (the classic)

[leci]

E ora eccomi sulla terra,non avendo altro fratello,prossimo,amico,che me stesso.
Sociabilissimo e amorevolissimo tra gli uomini,io ne fui proscritto per unanime accordo;
nella raffinatezza dell'odio,essi hanno cercato quale tormento potesse meglio incrudelire sulla mia sensibile anima,e hanno violentemente spezzato tutt'i legami che a loro mi tenevano.
Li avrei amati a dispetto di loro stessi,gli uomini:
non hanno potuto sottrarsi al mio affetto che rinuncandolo a esserlo.

Il male che mi hanno fatto gli uomini non mi tocca in alcun modo:
la sola paura di quello che possono ancora farmi riesce a darmi qualche pensiero;
ma sicuro che non hanno nessun nuovo pretesto per causarmi un turbamento che non sia passeggero,mi rido di tutte le loro trame,e godo di me stesso,al loro dispetto.


"Le passeggiate solitarie"
Jean-Jacques Rousseau