Dimitar Atanasov > Dimitar's Quotes

“Is he good? Or is he bad? That's the only thing I ask nowadays. And as I grow older—I'd swear this on the last crust I eat—I feel I shan't even go on asking that! Whether a man's good or bad, I'm sorry for him, for all of 'em. The sight of a man just rends my insides, even if I act as though I don't care a damn! There he is, poor devil, I think, he also eats and drinks and makes love and is frightened, whoever he is: he has his God and his devil just the same, and he'll peg out and lie as stiff as a board beneath the ground and be food for worms, just the same. Poor devil! We're all brothers! All worm-meat!”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

“Today we are always as ready to judge as we are to fornicate.”
― Albert Camus, The Fall

“I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“And presently I was driving through the drizzle of the dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.”
― William W. Purkey

“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

“When someone seeks," said Siddhartha, "then it easily happens that his eyes see only the thing that he seeks, and he is able to find nothing, to take in nothing because he always thinks only about the thing he is seeking, because he has one goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. Seeking means: having a goal. But finding means: being free, being open, having no goal.”
― Herman Hesse, Siddhartha

“Words do not express thoughts very well. they always become a little different immediately they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish. And yet it also pleases me and seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“I think the devil doesn't exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“Do not, under any circumstances, belittle a work of fiction by trying to turn it into a carbon copy of real life; what we search for in fiction is not so much reality but the epiphany of truth.”
― Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

“I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. [...] Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second-rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances can Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person, the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We could prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry his age has seen.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“You don't read Gatsby, I said, to learn whether adultery is good or bad but to learn about how complicated issues such as adultery and fidelity and marriage are. A great novel heightens your senses and sensitivity to the complexities of life and of individuals, and prevents you from the self-righteousness that sees morality in fixed formulas about good and evil.”
― Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

“Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet"

Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling).

Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-capped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!

Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin', darlin'?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin').

Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.

My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?

L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;
Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!
Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.

Officer, officer, there they go--
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.

Officer, officer, there they are--
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out and take cover.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.

My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

“Memories have ways of becoming independent of the reality they evoke. They can soften us against those we were deeply hurt by or they can make us resent those we once accepted and loved unconditionally.”
― Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

“... I have dreams of you too, Mariam jo. I miss you. I miss the sound of your voice, your laughter. I miss reading to you, and all those times we fished together. Do you remember all those times we fished together? You were a good daughter, Mariam jo, and I cannot ever think of you without feeling shame and regret. Regret… When it comes to you, Mariam jo, I have oceans of it. I regret that I did not see you the day you came to Herat. I regret that I did not open the door and take you in. I regret that I did not make you a daughter to me, that I let you live in that place for all those years. And for what? Fear of losing face? Of staining my so-called good name? How little those things matter to me now after all the loss, all the terrible things I have seen in this cursed war. But now, of course, it is too late. Perhaps that is just punishment for those who have been heartless, to understand only when nothing can be undone. Now all I can do is say that you were a good daughter, Mariam jo, and that I never deserved you. Now all I can do is ask for your forgiveness. So forgive me, Mariam jo. Forgive me, forgive me. Forgive me...”
― Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“„Алексис — рече ми той, — ще ти доверя едно нещо; малък си още и няма да го разбереш; ще го разбереш, когато пораснеш. Слушай, чедо мое: господ не могат го побра седемте ката на небето и седемте ката на земята; ала го побира сърцето на човека. И затова внимавай, Алексис, жив да си, внимавай да не нараниш никога сърцето на човека!”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

“Всичко е идеята - рече той. - Вярващ ли си? Тогава една треска от някаква си стара врата става честният кръст. Не си ли вярващ? Това честният кръст целият става някаква стара врата.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

“Този човек — рекох си аз — не е ходил на училище и умът му не се е покварил. Много е видял и много е патил, отворил се е умът му, разширило се е сърцето му, но без да загуби първичната си смелост. Всички сложни, неразрешими за нас проблеми той ги разрешава с един удар, разсича ги като сънародника си Александър Велики. Трудно би се излъгал той, защото се опира целият, от главата до петите, на земята. Африканските диваци обожествяват змията, защото с цялото си тяло се допира до земята и по този начин знае всичките й тайни. Узнава ги с корема, с опашката, със слабините, с главата си. Допира се, слива се, става едно с Майката. Такъв е и Зорбас. А ние, образованите, сме глупавите птици на въздуха.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Zorba the Greek

“Freedom was my first great desire. The second, which remains hidden within me to this day, tormenting me, was the desire for sanctity. Hero together with saint: such is mankind's supreme model.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

“Once more I realized to what an extent earthly happiness is made to the measure of man. It is not a rare bird which we must pursue at one moment in heaven, at the next in our minds. Happiness is a domestic bird found in our own courtyards.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

“What first truly stirred my soul was not fear or pain, nor was it pleasure or games; it was the yearning for freedom. I had to gain freedom - but from what, from whom? Little by little, in the course of time, I mounted freedom's rough unaccommodating ascent. To gain freedom first of all from the Turk, that was the initial step; after that, later, this new struggle began: to gain freedom from the inner Turk - from ignorance, malice and envy, from fear and laziness, from dazzling false ideas; and finally from idols, all of them, even the most revered and beloved.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

“I did not know what I was going to do with my life; before anything else I wanted to find an answer, my answer, to the timeless questions, and then after that I would decide what I would become. If I did not begin by discovering what was the grand purpose of life on earth, I said to myself, how would I be able to discover the purpose of my tiny ephemeral life? And if I did not give my life a purpose, how would I be able to engage in action? I was not interested in finding what life's purpose was objectively - this, I divined, was impossible and futile - but simply what purpose I, of my own free will, could give it in accord with my spiritual and intellectual needs. Whether or not this purpose was the true one did not, at that time, have any great significance for me. The important thing was that I should find (should create) a purpose congruent with my own self, and thus, by following it, reel out my particular desires and abilities to the furthest possible limit. For then at last I would be collaborating harmoniously with the totality of the universe.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

“Тъй мина близо година и по Димитровден, коги работата попривърши, намислиха кака да му пристане. Един ден, понеделник беше, тати отиде в града на скеля. Тръгнаха с мама, тя да остане в сестриното си село да извлачи малко вълна, та на връщане тати да я вземе. Кака ме прати да намеря Ганко и да му кажа, че вечерта ще му пристане. Тати и мама може да не се върнат, пък и да се върнат, уморени, рано ще заспят. Цял ден кръстосвах из село да срещна нейде Ганко и чак на мръкване го видях на кладенеца. Грабнах менците и хукнах нататък. Тичам, ама краката ми подсечени, сърцето ми стегнато на топ, ще се пръсне. Ей сега, думам си, ще се наговорим за пристанушата, кака ще си вземе бохчичката, дето сме я скрили от месец насам в плевника, ще отиде с него и Ганко няма да го има. Няма да го има и за мене живот няма да има… Нарекохме се с Ганко да чака кака в задната градина до бъзака. Ако пък мама и тати се върнат по туй време, да я чака, докато си легнат. Вързахме и двете кучета, да го не усетят и залаят. Като притъмня хубаво, кака рече: „Е, Маро, да се простим, какиното, че каквото Бог покаже нататък. На мама и тати от мене поклон стори, да не ми се сърдят, че думата им надве направих. На Ганко съм се врекла, в негови ръце оставям живота си.“ Тъй ми приказва кака и ме прегръща, пък аз си мисля що не я тръшне болест ей сегичка, да падне и да не стане, че ако Ганко не е на мене, да не е и на нея. Тежък грях турих на сърцето си, родната си сестра поисках мъртва да видя. Мене да беше тръшнала болест, аз да бях паднала и да не стана!… Тогаз каруцата изтрополя и спря пред къщи. Калинко, Марийко, тука ли сте, викна тати, излезте да помогнете на майка си. Кака отърча навън при каруцата, а пък аз останах в стаята. Помаях се малко, дорде разпрегнат конете и пренесат туй-онуй в килера, и изтичах в плевника. Взех бохчичката, дето кака я беше скрила с малко чеизец, и право в градината при бъзака. Ганко ме хвана за ръка и хукнахме в тъмното. Покрай плетищата, покрай плетищата и у тях. Нека си легнат нашите, дума Ганко, на утрина ще те заведа при тях. Мушнахме се в тъмната сая и седнахме на сеното. Той радостен, радостен, на ръце ме взе и като дете ме гали. Калинко, Калинчице, ей че се взехме и никой не може да ни раздели! Ами ти, шепне ми, що мълчиш, не се ли радваш? Що си се стегнала тъй, отпусни се. Ако и да не сме още венчани, ний сме вече мъж и жена. А аз плача, плача, дъх не мога да си поема. Сърцето ми надве разкъсано, сега, думам си, трябва да му кажа коя съм, дорде не е станало късно, па каквото той реши. Ала не му казах… Ганко ме разпозна чак по видело. Нищо не ми продума, заведе ме при своите, честта ми от хорски срам опази. Трийсет години живяхме, десет деца му родих, лоша дума не ми каза, ала и сладка дума от него не чух. Не можа да обърне сърце към мене. Двете къщи съвсем се смразиха, у дома при мама и тати не стъпих, с кака ни се видяхме, ни се чухме. Ожени се в далечно село и там си остана. Дойдоха и децата. Хубави и здрави, да им се ненагледаш, а щом подраснат, без болест залиняват и като свещици гаснат. Едно подир друго, едно подир друго. Останаха ми само Маринчо и Станка. Бог ме наказа, дето зачерних два живота, а над дечицата ми се смили и ги прибра, да не теглят греха на майка си. И Ганко залиня. Имаше-нямаше петдесет години, легна и не стана. На доктор не поиска да се покаже, не каза и какво го боли. Мълчешката живя горкият, мълчешката си издъхна. Същия ден дойде хабер от какиното село, че и тя починала. Не можах до гроба да я изпратя и прошка да й поискам. Божа поличба беше и туй, дето в един ден починаха Ганко и кака. Разделени живяха тука, а душите им ведно са били, та щом единият се въздигна нагоре, другият тръгна подир него. Там, пред Бога, още същия ден да се венчаят…”
― Ивайло Петров, Преди да се родя и след смъртта ми

“Wisdom cannot be imparted. Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart always sounds like foolishness to someone else ... Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“No, a true seeker, one who truly wished to find, could accept no doctrine. But the man who has found what he sought, such a man could approve of every doctrine, each and every one, every path, every goal; nothing separated him any longer from all those thousands of others who lived in the eternal, who breathed the Divine.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“He saw mankind going through life in a childlike manner... which he loved but also despised.... He saw them toiling, saw them suffering, and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to be entirely unworthy of this price, for money, for little pleasures, for being slightly honoured....”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“Ask the river about it, my friend! Listen to it, laugh about it! Do you then really think that you have committed your follies in order to spare your son them? Can you then protect your son from Samsara? How? Through instruction, through prayers, through exhortation? My dear friend, have you forgotten that instructive story about Siddhartha, the Brahmin's son, whiuch you once told me here? Who protected Siddhartha the Samana from Samsara, from sin, greed and folly? Could his father's piety, his teacher's exhortations, his own knowledge, his own seeking, protect him? Which father, which teacher, could prevent him from living his own life, from soiing himself with life, from loading himself with sin, from swallowing the bitter drink himself, from finding his own path? Do you think, my dear friend, that anybody is spared this path? Perhaps your little son, because you would like to see him spared sorrow and pain and disillusionment? But if you were to die ten times for him, you would not alter his destiny in the slightest.”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“You don't force him, don't beat him, don't give him orders, because you know that 'soft' is stronger than 'hard', Water stronger than rocks, love stronger than force. Very good, I praise you. But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him, wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day, and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? Don't you force him, the arrogant and pampered boy, to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters, to whom even rice is a delicacy, whose thoughts can't be his, whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced, isn't he punished by all this?”
― Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“Remember particularly that you cannot be a judge of anyone. For no one can judge a criminal until he recognizes that he is just such a criminal as the man standing before him, and that he perhaps is more than all men to blame for that crime. When he understands that, he will be able to be a judge. Though that sounds absurd, it is true. If I had been righteous myself, perhaps there would have been no criminal standing before me. If you can take upon yourself the crime of the criminal your heart is judging, take it at once, suffer for him yourself, and let him go without reproach. And even if the law itself makes you his judge, act in the same spirit so far as possible, for he will go away and condemn himself more bitterly than you have done. If, after your kiss, he goes away untouched, mocking at you, do not let that be a stumbling-block to you. It shows his time has not yet come, but it will come in due course. And if it come not, no matter; if not he, then another in his place will understand and suffer, and judge and condemn himself, and the truth will be fulfilled. Believe that, believe it without doubt; for in that lies all the hope and faith of the saints.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

“If the soul within us does not change, Judas, the world outside us will never change. The enemy is within, the Romans are within, salvation starts from within!”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, The Last Temptation of Christ