cloz > Recent Status Updates

If you don’t have yourself a merry little Christmas, you might as well kill yourself.

Plan ahead, Jayne. Plan ahead.

Avoid lecturing in discos; the audience is usually not in the mood

"Bygones, bygones," Bijaz muttered as they went. "Let bygones fall where they may. This has been a dirty day."

"I don't speak," Bijaz said. "I operate a machine called language. It creaks and groans, but is mine own."

And he thought: There! Let this man-fish think himself victorious in our battle of words!

we forgot indifference

you’re scaring tery!

They shine a light on corrupt and incompetent leaders, reveal and exacerbate pre-existing social divisions, and encourage people to question the status quo.

but like a man, calmly, and he reached the conclusion that you'te just a big-shot official-and that's all, a mediocre individual elevated to an enviable rank due to purely exter-
nal circumstances.

Only petty tyranny can explain the hurricane you raised over a piece of mediocre sausage,

Actually, I have just one feeling: hatred.

The paths were confusing, I felt like I was walking through fish soup.

And all because they showed him a new type of sausage…

(Things don't like me. Furniture purposely sticks out its leg for me. A polished corner once literally bit me. My blanket and I have always had a complicated relationship. Soup served to me never cools. Any little thing a coin or a cuff link-that falls off the table usually rolls away under furniture that's hard to move. I crawl across the floor and lifting my head I see the sideboard laughing.)

‘of course’ replied La Maheude. ‘Blow the candle out, I don’t need to see what my thoughts look like.’

We put it this way: Military capability is the launching pad of diplomacy.

"I worry about something more basic," she said, turning her head to look up at him sideways.
"More basic?" Radovan asked.
"Like the question of how we got into that bind." She gazed up at him, still sideways, waiting for an answer whose wisdom would match her own, though hers was a paraphrasing of her father's answer to Bernice and to any-body, back in DeVelbiss, who voiced the same fear.

1"Do you think there'll be a war by accident anyway?" she asked, framing her question differently in order to ask
it twice.
"Anyway?" he inquired.
"I mean anyway, in spite of what you said that the hrst missile would probably never be fired. Could there be a war by accident, anyway?"

Among the scholars, the best man, they fig-ured, was one whose field was mankind. Well, philosophy sounded too highbrow-it does to the average man, that is
—and anthropology is too much concerned with the primitive and the past, sociology sounded statistical and cold, and so history won out.

Then they decided that he must be a modest fellow, somebody with some accomplishments but not too many; not a four-star professor, they're intimi-dating, but almost one, maybe somebody who just didn't make the grade or hadn't made it yet, like a lot of us—an associate professor.

and perhaps this is the germ of an immense metropolis. ...

From these data it is possible to deduce an image of the future Berenice, which will bring you closer to knowing the truth than any other information abour the city as it is seen today. You must nevertheless bear in mind what I am about to say to you: in the seed of the city of the just, a malignant seed is hid-den, in its turn: the certainty and pride of being in the right-and of being more just than many others

Instead of describing to you the perfumed pools of the baths where the unjust of Berenice recline and weave their intrigues with round eloquence and observe with a proprietary eye the rotund fesh of the bathing odalisques, I should say to you how the just, always cautious to evade the spying sycophants and the Janizaries' mass arrests, recognize one another by their way of speaking,

become the pleasure of others: all spaces change, all heights, distances; the city is transfigured, becomes crystalline, transparent as a dragonfly.everything must happen as if by chance, without attaching too much importance to it, without insisting that you are performing a decisive operation, remembering … any moment the old Marozia will return and solder its ceiling of store, cobwebs, and mold over all heads

I have come back to Marozia after many years: for some time the sibyl's prophecy is considered to have come true; the old century is dead and buried, the new is at its climax. The city has surely changed, and perhaps for the better. But the wings I have seen moving about are those of suspicious umbrellas under which heavy eyelids are lowered; there are people who believe they are flying, but it is already an

the illumination of that page in the volume where the philosopher says: "Also in Raissa, city of sadness, there runs an invisible thread that binds one living being to another for a moment, then unravels, then is stretched again between moving points as it draws new and rapid patterns so that at every second the unhappy city contains a happy city unaware of its own existence."

Perinthia's astronomers are faced with a difficult choice. Either they must admit that all their calculations were wrong and their figures are unable to describe the heavens, or else they must reveal that the order of the gods is reflected exactly in the city of
monsters.

If you ask, "Why is Thekla's construction taking such a long time?" the inhabitants continue hoisting sacks, lowering leaded strings, moving long brushes up and down, as they
answer,
"So that its destruction cannot begin." And if asked whether they fear that, once the scaffoldings are removed, the city may begin to crumble and fall to pieces, they add hastily, in a whisper, "Not only the city."

It is not so much by the things that each day are manufactured, sold, bought that you can measure Leonia's opulence, but rather by the things that each day are thrown out to make room for the new. So you begin to wonder if Leonia's true passion is really, as they say, the enjoyment of new and different things, and not, instead, the joy of expelling, discarding, cleansing itself of a recurrent impurity.