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845 voters
“What, you egg? [stabs him]”
― Macbeth
― Macbeth
“LADY BRACKNELL. I have always been of the opinion that a man who desires to be married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?
JACK. [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.
LADY BRACKNELL. I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever.”
― The Importance of Being Earnest
JACK. [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.
LADY BRACKNELL. I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever.”
― The Importance of Being Earnest
“Our problem isn't that we're individualists. It's that our individualism is static rather than dynamic. We value what we think rather than what we do. We forget that we haven't done, or been, what we thought; that the first function of life is action, just as the first property of things is motion.”
― The Education of the Stoic: The Only Manuscript of the Baron of Teive
― The Education of the Stoic: The Only Manuscript of the Baron of Teive
“این جا که همیشه مینشینی وچای هم میزنیّ وبه ابرها
نگاه میکنی
که دائماً بزرگ میشوند و کوچک و این قدر، خلاصه، دقیقه دقیقه که انگار
بازمان میرقصند.
گاهی اتفاق میافتد غروبها
چیزی انگار گُمت شده باشد، بعد میبینی از نبودِ نور بوده وفتی آن رفیقِ قدیمی
کلید چراغ را میزند...”
―
نگاه میکنی
که دائماً بزرگ میشوند و کوچک و این قدر، خلاصه، دقیقه دقیقه که انگار
بازمان میرقصند.
گاهی اتفاق میافتد غروبها
چیزی انگار گُمت شده باشد، بعد میبینی از نبودِ نور بوده وفتی آن رفیقِ قدیمی
کلید چراغ را میزند...”
―
“I, like a river,
Have been turned aside by this harsh age.
I am a substitute. My life has flowed
Into another channel
And I do not recognize my shores.
O, how many fine sights I have missed,
How many curtains have risen without me
And fallen too. How many of my friends
I have not met even once in my life,
How many city skylines
Could have drawn tears from my eyes,
I who know only the one city
And by touch, in my sleep, I could find it ...
And how many poems I have not written,
Whose secret chorus swirls around my head
And possibly one day
Will stifle me ...
I know the beginnings and the ends of things,
And life after the end, and something
It isn’t necessary to remember now.
And another woman has usurped
The place that ought to have been mine,
And bears my rightful name,
Leaving me a nickname, with which I’ve done,
I like to think, all that was possible.
But I, alas, won’t lie in my own grave.
But sometimes a madcap air in spring,
Or a combination of words in a chance book
Or somebody’s smile, suddenly
Draws me into that non-existent life.
In such a year would such have taken place,
Something else in another: travelling, seeing,
Thinking, remembering, entering a new love
Like entering a mirror, with a dull sense
Of treason, and a wrinkle that only yesterday
Was absent ...
But if, from that life, I could step aside,
And see my life such as it is, today,
Then at last I’d know what envy means ...”
―
Have been turned aside by this harsh age.
I am a substitute. My life has flowed
Into another channel
And I do not recognize my shores.
O, how many fine sights I have missed,
How many curtains have risen without me
And fallen too. How many of my friends
I have not met even once in my life,
How many city skylines
Could have drawn tears from my eyes,
I who know only the one city
And by touch, in my sleep, I could find it ...
And how many poems I have not written,
Whose secret chorus swirls around my head
And possibly one day
Will stifle me ...
I know the beginnings and the ends of things,
And life after the end, and something
It isn’t necessary to remember now.
And another woman has usurped
The place that ought to have been mine,
And bears my rightful name,
Leaving me a nickname, with which I’ve done,
I like to think, all that was possible.
But I, alas, won’t lie in my own grave.
But sometimes a madcap air in spring,
Or a combination of words in a chance book
Or somebody’s smile, suddenly
Draws me into that non-existent life.
In such a year would such have taken place,
Something else in another: travelling, seeing,
Thinking, remembering, entering a new love
Like entering a mirror, with a dull sense
Of treason, and a wrinkle that only yesterday
Was absent ...
But if, from that life, I could step aside,
And see my life such as it is, today,
Then at last I’d know what envy means ...”
―
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