Darki

“Prolaze vode, oblaci prolaze i dani ispod njih prolaze. Dolaze — prolaze. Provuku se plave sutonove sjenke, prokaplju mračci kroz prozore, provuku se, pritaje, pa ih nestane. Nestane sunca, boja nestane i dan se za danom ugasi i ode nekuda u daljine. Tamo su već prošli vjekovi, životi i godine.”
― Đuro Sudeta, Mor

“Naučio sam da je svaka žurba uzaludna i svaki nemir jalov; svejedno se dočeka sve, svejedno se otkrije smisao ili besmisao svega. Svejedno čovjek obiđe čitav svoj krug. Pa zašto onda tolika žurba?”
― Vladan Desnica

“Anybody can look at a pretty girl and see a pretty girl. An artist can look at a pretty girl and see the old woman she will become. A better artist can look at an old woman and see the pretty girl that she used to be. But a great artist-a master-and that is what Auguste Rodin was-can look at an old woman, protray her exactly as she is...and force the viewer to see the pretty girl she used to be...and more than that, he can make anyone with the sensitivity of an armadillo, or even you, see that this lovely young girl is still alive, not old and ugly at all, but simply prisoned inside her ruined body. He can make you feel the quiet, endless tragedy that there was never a girl born who ever grew older than eighteen in her heart...no matter what the merciless hours have done to her. Look at her, Ben. Growing old doesn't matter to you and me; we were never meant to be admired-but it does to them.”
― Robert Heinlein

“A sad? On bi htio da se nešto vrati, da nešto bude - što nije bilo, čega uopće nema. Kriv je on. Tko je zapravo kriv? Duša? Ona se ne pokorava logici i razumu. Bure se lamaju i prolaze, gromovi udare i utihnu, ali bol ostaje, jer je duša vječna. Nju nitko neće pobijediti. Vuk je drhtao u brlogu, on je pjevao i kričao u oblake, ali mu se nitko nije mogao narugati.
Na rukama je podizao klade i teret koje drugi ne bi podigao, razgovarao je sa suncem i drvećem, krotio je zvijeri i životinje, pa mu se nitko nije narugao.
I onda kad je plakao za mrtvim sunovratima i s novembarskim lišćem kisnuo ispod pustih zvijezda, ni onda mu se nitko nije rugao.
A sad?”
― Đuro Sudeta, Mor