Christopher Dunne

“Να υπάρχεις Ελληνικός, δηλώνει τέσσερις τρόπους συμπεριφοράς. Ότι δέχεσαι την αλήθεια, που έρχεται από τη φύση, όχι την αλήθεια που φτιάχνει το μυαλό των ανθρώπων. Ότι ζεις σύμφωνα με την ηθική της γνώσης, όχι με την ηθική της δεισιδαιμονίας και των προλήψεων. Ότι αποθεώνεις την ομορφιά, γιατί η ομορφιά είναι δυνατή σαν το νου σου και φθαρτή σαν τη σάρκα σου. Και κυρίως αυτό: Ότι αγαπάς τον άνθρωπο, καθώς ο άνθρωπος είναι το πιο τραγικό πλάσμα μέσα στον κόσμο.”
― Δημήτρης Λιαντίνης, Τα ελληνικά

“In the meantime, he was dotting the ‘I’s and crossing the ‘T’s, waiting for the S and the H to show up.”
― Caimh McDonnell, A Man With One of Those Faces

“I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse-Five

“A language that will at last say what we have to say. For our words no longer correspond to the world. When things were whole, we felt confident that our words could express them. But little by little these things have broken apart, shattered, collapsed into chaos. And yet our words have remained the same. They have not adapted themselves to the new reality. Hence, every time we try to speak of what we see, we speak falsely, distorting the very thing we are trying to represent. It's made a mess of everything. But words, as you yourself understand, are capable of change. The problem is how to demonstrate this. That is why I now work with the simplest means possible - so simple that even a child can grasp what I am saying. Consider a word that refers to a thing - "umbrella", for example. When I say the word "umbrella", you see the object in your mind. You see a kind of stick, with collapsible metal spokes on top that form an armature for a waterproof material which, when opened, will protect you from the rain. This last detail is important. Not only is an umbrella a thing, it is a thing that performs a function - in other words, expresses the will of man. When you stop to think of it, every object is similar to the umbrella, in that it serves a function. A pencil is for writing, a shoe is for wearing, a car is for driving. Now, my question is this. What happens when a thing no longer performs its function ? Is it still the thing or has it become something else ? When you rip the cloth off the umbrella, is the umbrella still an umbrella ? You open the spokes, put them over your head, walk out into the rain, and you get drenched. Is it possible to go one calling this object an umbrella ? In general, people do. At the very limit, they will say the umbrella is broken. To me this is a serious error, the source of all our troubles. Because it can no longer perform its function, the umbrella has ceased to be an umbrella. It might resemble an umbrella, it might once have been an umbrella, but now it has changed into something else. The word, however, has remained the same. Therefore, it can no longer express the thing. It is imprecise; it is false; it hides the thing it is supposed to reveal. And if we cannot even name a common, everyday object that we hold in our hands, how can we expect to speak of the things that truly concern us? Unless we can begin to embody the position of change in the words we use, we will continue to be lost.”
― Paul Auster, City of Glass