Kovaxka

“Even harder to admit is how depressed I was. As the social stigma of depression disappears, the aesthetic stigma increases. It’s not just that depression has become fashionable to the point of banality. It’s the sense that we live in a reductively binary culture: you’re either healthy or you’re sick, you either function or you don’t. And if that flattening of the field of possibilities is precisely what’s depressing you, you’re inclined to resist participating in the flattening by calling yourself depressed. You decide that it’s the world that’s sick,, and that the resistance of refusing to function in such a world is healthy. You embrace what clinicians call “depressive realism.” It’s what the chorus in Oedipus Rex sings: “Alas, ye generations of men, how mere a shadow do I count your life! Where, where is the mortal who wins more of happiness than just the seeming, and, after the semblance, a falling away?” You are, after all, just protoplasm, and some day you’ll be dead. The invitation to leave your depression behind, whether through medication or therapy or effort of will, seems like an invitation to turn your back on all your dark insights into the corruption and infantilism and selfdelusion of the brave new Me World.”
― Jonathan Franzen, How to Be Alone

“- Taxi, Sir! - szólít meg [a taxisofőr] egy vadász szerénységével.
Itt, fájdalom, egy kis időt újból nyelvészkedéssel kell töltenünk. Rossz fordító e mondatot úgy tenné át magyarra, hogy: "Parancsol, uram, taxit?" Holott a sofőr nem ezt mondta. A sofőr azt mondta: "Parancsoljon, uram, taxit!" A mondat második felét, "amíg szépen beszélek", már nem tette hozzá, jó barátok kevés szóból is értik egymást.”
― Orbán Ottó, Barbarus utazásai

“...jó a kenyér, a vaj is jó, kávé nélkül pedig minden bizonnyal nem is lehet élni.”
― Jón Kalman Stefánsson, Heaven and Hell

“I don't think I've ever told you
but your hug is a wormhole
of space and time in which I
disappear
dissolve
disorient
and from which I come back
older yet younger
wiser yet more childish
stronger yet weaker
and you just hug
just hug
just hug
'til I become a dying star”
― Varga Júlia, I.