Monse Turijan
https://www.goodreads.com/monseturijan
“Quien controla el pasado —decía la consigna del Partido— controla el futuro. Quien controla el presente controla el pasado”
― 1984
― 1984
“I do nothing, with as little shame as satisfaction. It is the state that suits me best. I write the odd poem when it is there, that is the only thing worth doing. There is an ecstasy of accidia — will-less in a grey tumult of idées obscures. There is an end to the temptation of light, its polite scorchings & consolations. It is good for children & insects. There is an end of making up one's mind, like a pound of tea, an end of patting the butter of consciousness into opinions. The real consciousness is the chaos, a grey commotion of mind, with no premises or conclusions or problems or solutions or cases or judgments.”
― The Letters of Samuel Beckett: Volume 1, 1929-1940
― The Letters of Samuel Beckett: Volume 1, 1929-1940
“It is indeed becoming more and more difficult, even senseless, for me to write an official English. And more and more my own language appears to me like a veil that must be torn apart in order to get at the things (or the Nothingness) behind it. Grammar and style. To me they have become as irrelevant as a Victorian bathing suit or the imperturbability of a true gentleman. A mask. Let us hope the time will come, thank God that in certain circles it has already come, when language is most efficiently used where it is being most efficiently misused. As we cannot eliminate language all at once, we should at least leave nothing undone that might contribute to its falling into disrepute. To bore one hole after another in it, until what lurks behind it - be it something or nothing - begins to seep through; I cannot imagine a higher goal for a writer today.”
― The Letters of Samuel Beckett: Volume 1, 1929-1940
― The Letters of Samuel Beckett: Volume 1, 1929-1940
“Para quien necesite recordar que incluso en medio del caos, de la tristeza más profunda y de la arrasadora locura del mundo, se puede ¡y se debe! seguir avanzando.”
― Las cosas que no nos dijeron: (y otras que sí, pero no son ciertas)
― Las cosas que no nos dijeron: (y otras que sí, pero no son ciertas)
“—Al final solo bebía —susurré. No podía dej ar de hablar, no hasta haberle contado todo lo que pensaba sobre el asunto—. Y la últim a vez que le vi corría a ciegas entre los cedros, a causa de la bebida, y com probé que cada vez que se llevaba la botella a la boca, no era él quien chupaba de la botella, sino la botella que le succionaba a él, hasta que se quedó tan encogido, arrugado y am arillento que ni los perros le reconocían, y tuvim os que sacarlo de los cedros, en una cam ioneta, y llevárnoslo a un lugar de Portland, donde m urió. No digo que m aten a la gente. A él no lo m ataron. Le hicieron otra cosa.”
― One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
― One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
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