“The point of this language of “intention” and “personal responsibility” is broad exoneration. Mistakes were made. Bodies were broken. People were enslaved. We meant well. We tried our best. “Good intention” is a hall pass through history, a sleeping pill that ensures the Dream.”
― Between the World and Me
― Between the World and Me
“-Одакле си ти?
-Из Куча, Господаре
-А чи си ти из Куча?
-Миљана Јанкова, Поповића с Медуна
-Нијесам чуо за њега
-Ако нијеси чуо за њега, а ти чуј за мене: ја сам Марко Миљанов и бољега Куча од мене нема!”
― Primjeri čojstva i junaštva
-Из Куча, Господаре
-А чи си ти из Куча?
-Миљана Јанкова, Поповића с Медуна
-Нијесам чуо за њега
-Ако нијеси чуо за њега, а ти чуј за мене: ја сам Марко Миљанов и бољега Куча од мене нема!”
― Primjeri čojstva i junaštva
“Kad smo bili mladi, učili su nas o bratstvu i jedinstvu. Verovali smo u to i ponašali se u skladu sa time. Kasnije je trebalo da naučimo da mrzimo jedni druge. Ali, to nismo uspeli. Naš identitet iz mladosti ubijen je u jednom trenutku početkom devedestih.”
― Dagbok fra Beograd
― Dagbok fra Beograd
“It is a stubble field, where a black rain is falling.
It is a brown tree, that stands alone.
It is a hissing wind, that encircles empty houses.
How melancholy the evening is.
A while later,
The soft orphan garners the sparse ears of corn.
Her eyes graze, round and golden, in the twilight
And her womb awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
On the way home
The shepherd found the sweet body
Decayed in a bush of thorns.
I am a shadow far from darkening villages.
I drank the silence of God
Out of the stream in the trees.
Cold metal walks on my forehead.
Spiders search for my heart.
It is a light that goes out in my mouth.
At night, I found myself on a pasture,
Covered with rubbish and the dust of stars.
In a hazel thicket
Angels of crystal rang out once more.”
―
It is a brown tree, that stands alone.
It is a hissing wind, that encircles empty houses.
How melancholy the evening is.
A while later,
The soft orphan garners the sparse ears of corn.
Her eyes graze, round and golden, in the twilight
And her womb awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
On the way home
The shepherd found the sweet body
Decayed in a bush of thorns.
I am a shadow far from darkening villages.
I drank the silence of God
Out of the stream in the trees.
Cold metal walks on my forehead.
Spiders search for my heart.
It is a light that goes out in my mouth.
At night, I found myself on a pasture,
Covered with rubbish and the dust of stars.
In a hazel thicket
Angels of crystal rang out once more.”
―
“Of course, you might be perfectly happy ceding all authority to the algorithms and trusting them to decide things for you and for the rest of the world. If so, just relax and enjoy the ride. You don't need to do anything about it. The algorithms will take care of everything. If, however, you want to retain some control over your personal existence and the future of life, you have to run faster than the algorithms, faster than Amazon and the government, and get to know yourself before they do. To run fast, don't take much baggage with you. Leave all your illusions behind. They are very heavy.”
― 21 Lessons for the 21st Century
― 21 Lessons for the 21st Century
Middle East/North African Lit
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