Արմեն Մկրտչյան > Արմեն's Quotes

“Children are dying."
Lull nodded. "That's a succinct summary of humankind, I'd say. Who needs tomes and volumes of history? Children are dying. The injustices of the world hide in those three words.”
― Steven Erikson, Deadhouse Gates

“She upset Billy simply by being his mother. She made him feel embarrassed and ungrateful and weak because she had gone to so much trouble to give him life, and to keep that life going, and Billy didn't really like life at all.”
― Kurt Vonnegut

“Echolalia is a mental disease which makes people immediately repeat things that well people around them say. But Billy didn't really have it. Rumfoord simply insisted, for his own comfort, that Billy had it. Rumfoord was thinking in a military manner: that an inconvenient person, one whose death he wished for very much, for practical reasons, was suffering from a repulsive disease.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

“Այսպես, քանի որ բնավ ընկերոջ հոգս ու վշտերին
Ջերմագին սիրով չկարեկցեցի,
Արդարությամբ արդ հենց աոաջին իսկ
վտանգի պահին
Սառում եմ այսպես սաստիկ տագնապած.
Քանզի տռփական ցանկություններիս
Մոլագարության՝ սանձ չդրեցի,
Արժանի կերպով կրում եմ այժմ
Անզովանալի հրայրքը կիզման.
Զի չսիրեցի լույսն ավետիսիդ,
Արդար հատուցմամբ կորստյան մեգի
Անելանելի թանձր խավարում
Դանդաչում եմ արդ մոլորագնաց.
Քանի որ մանր ու փոքր հանցանքներից չխուսափեցի,
Հաշվելով դրանք անվնասակար,
Հիրավի խայթված խոցոտվում եմ արդ
Խածնող զազրելի, գարշ զեռուններից.
Զի աղետի մեջ ընկած թշվառին
Օգնելու համար ձեռք չմեկնեցի,
Տեղին է, որ հենց նույն ձևով ինքս էլ
Ապականության գբին մատնվեմ։”
― Grigor Narekatsi

“Նույնիսկ ջախջախված մարմնի արյունով
Ներկված ձորձերն իր քեզ չկարկառեց՝
Փորձելով ճմլել սիրտը գթածիդ,
Զի հուսահատ էր.”
― Grigor Narekatsi, The Book of Sadness

“Anyone can love a thing because. That’s as easy as putting a penny in your pocket. But to love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“I have wrestled with death. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable grayness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamor, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat, in a sickly atmosphere of tepid skepticism, without much belief in your own right, and still less in that of your adversary.”
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

“individual is obsolete. That’s why life is so comfortable for us all. We don’t matter, so we’re safe. No one person can have any real effect anymore.”
― Iain M. Banks, The Player of Games

“It was not so difficult to understand the warped view the Azadians had of what they called "human nature" - the phrase they used whenever they had to justify something inhuman and unnatural”
― Iain M. Banks, The Player of Games

“The rover and trailer regulate their own temperatures just fine, but things weren’t hot enough in the bedroom. Story of my life.”
― Andy Weir, The Martian

“I can't wait till I have grandchildren. When I was younger, I had to walk to the rim of a crater. Uphill! In an EVA suit! On Mars, ya little shit! Ya hear me? Mars!”
― Andy Weir, The Martian

“To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear.”
― Sun Tzu, Art of War

“The host thus forming a single united body, is it impossible either for the brave to advance alone, or for the cowardly to retreat alone”
― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

“Речей моих, о свет моих очей!
Кто на поверку,
Разум чей
Сказать осмелится: "Я верю"?
Чье существо
Высокомерно скажет: "Я не верю"?
В него,
Создателя всего.
Опоры
Всего: меня, тебя, простора
И самого себя?
Или над нами неба нет,
Или земли нет под ногами
И звезд мерцающее пламя
На нас не льет свой кроткий свет?
Глаза в глаза тебе сейчас
Не я ль гляжу проникновенно,
И не присутствие ль вселенной
Незримо явно возле нас?
Так вот, воспрянь в ее соседстве,
Почувствуй на ее свету
Существованья полноту
И это назови потом
Любовью, счастьем, божеством.
Нет подходящих соответствий,
И нет достаточных имен,
Все дело в чувстве, а названье
Лишь дым, которым блеск сиянья
Без надобности затемнен.”
― Иоганн Вольфганг Гете, Фауст

“Останься в живых, желанный,
Из всех нас только ты
И соблюдай сохранно
Могильные цветы.
Ты выкопай лопатой
Три ямы на склоне дня:
Для матери, для брата
И третью для меня.
Мою копай сторонкой,
Невдалеке клади
И приложи ребенка
Тесней к моей груди.
Я с дочкою глубоко
Засну, прижавшись к ней,
Жаль, не с тобою сбоку,
С отрадою моей!
Но все теперь иначе.
Хоть то же все на вид,
Мне нет с тобой удачи,
И холод твой страшит.”
― Иоганн Вольфганг Гете, Фауст

“This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”
― T.S. Eliot

“We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

- The Hollow Men”
― T.S. Eliot, Poems: 1909-1925

“Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?" That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost

“After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water
- The Waste Land (ll. 322-358)”
― T. S. Eliot

“Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?”
― T.S. Eliot, Ash Wednesday

“Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power”
― T.S. Eliot, Ash Wednesday

“факт смерти близкого знакомого вызвал во всех, узнавших про нее, как всегда, чувство радости о том, что умер он, а не я.”
― Leo Tolstoy, Смерть Ивана Ильича

“И Кай точно смертен, и ему правильно умирать, но мне, Ване, Ивану Ильичу, со всеми моими чувствами, мыслями, — мне это другое дело. И не может быть, чтобы мне следовало умирать. Это было бы слишком ужасно.”
― Leo Tolstoy, Смерть Ивана Ильича

“— Да, все было не то, — сказал он себе, — но это ничего. Можно, можно сделать «то». Что ж «то»? — опросил он себя и вдруг затих.”
― Leo Tolstoy, Смерть Ивана Ильича

“«Кончена смерть, — сказал он себе. — Ее нет больше».”
― Leo Tolstoy, Смерть Ивана Ильича

“So I learned that even after a single day's experience of the outside world a man could easily live a hundred years in prison. He'd have laid up enough memories never to be bored.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“From the dark horizon of my future a sort of slow, persistent breeze had been blowing toward me, all my life long, from the years that were to come. And on its way that breeze had leveled out all the ideas that people tried to foist on me in the equally unreal years I then was living through.”
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

“I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means.”
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness