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I have read more about Oprah Winfrey’s ass than I have about the rise of China as an economic superpower. I fear this is no exaggeration. Perhaps China is rising as an economic superpower because its women aren’t spending all their time reading about Oprah Winfrey’s ass. ↗
My Testament translated by Michael Mikos I have lived with you, suffered and shed tears with you. No noble person have I ever passed aside. Today I leave you, ghosts in shadows to pursue, And if happiness were here – in sorrow I stride. I have not left behind me a single offspring Either to play my lute or to carry my name ; My name has passed away like a flash of lightning, And will last for generations like an empty strain. But you that have known me, pass to all in legend That I wore out my youth for the land of my fathers ; When the ship struggled – I stood at the mast to the end, And when she was sinking – I too drowned in deep waters... Yet some day, pondering about the destined lot Of my poor homeland, any noble man will consent That my spirit’s cloak was not by begging begot, But as my ancestors’ glories shines resplendent. Let my faithful friends at night gather together And burn up my poor heart in die leaves of aloe, Return it to die one who gave it to me later : So the world pays mothers – giving them ashes to stow... Let my friends sit down, each one holding a goblet, And drown in wine my burial – and their own despair... If I am a spirit, I’ll appear to them yet, If God frees me from torment, I will not come there... But I beg you – let the living not lose hope ever And bear the torch of learning before their compatriots ; And when called, go to their death one after another, Like the stones tossed by the Lord onto the ramparts... As for me – I am leaving a small group of friends, Those who were able to love my haughty spirit ; One can see I have fulfilled God’s hard assignments And assented to have here – an unwept casket... Who else would go on without the world’s accolades, Such indifference to the world as I display ? To be the helmsman of a boat that’s filled with shades, And fly off as quietly as the shade flies away ? And yet I leave behind me this fateful power, Useless while I live... it just graces my temples ; But when I die, it will, unseen, press you ever, Till it remakes you, bread eaters – into angels. Testament mój Żyłem z wami, cierpiałem i płakałem z wami, Nigdy mi, kto szlachetny, nie był obojętny, Dziś was rzucam i dalej idę w cień - z duchami - A jak gdyby tu szczęście było - idę smętny. Nie zostawiłem tutaj żadnego dziedzica Ani dla mojej lutni, ani dla imienia: - Imię moje tak przeszło jak błyskawica I będzie jak dźwięk pusty trwać przez pokolenia. Lecz wy coście mnie znali, w podaniach przekażcie, Żem dla ojczyzny sterał moje lata młode; A póki okręt walczył siedziałem na maszcie, A gdy tonął - z okrętem poszedłem pod wodę... Ale kiedyś - o smętnych losach zadumany Mojej biednej ojczyzny - przyzna kto szlachetny, Że płaszcz na moim duchu był nie wyżebrany, Lecz świetnościami dawnych moich przodków świetny. Niech przyjaciele moi w nocy się zgromadzą I biedne serce moje spalą w aloesie, I tej, która mi dała to serce, oddadzą - Tak się matkom wypłaca świat, gdy proch odniesie... Niech przyjaciele moi siądą przy pucharze I zapiją mój pogrzeb - oraz własną biedę: Jeżeli będę duchem, to się im pokażę, Jeśli Bóg [mię] uwolni od męki - nie przyjdę... Lecz zaklinam - niech żywi nie tracą nadziei I przed narodem niosą oświaty kaganiec; A kiedy trzeba, na śmierć idą po kolei, Jak kamienie przez Boga rzucone na szaniec!... Co do mnie - ja zostawiam maleńką tu drużbę Tych, co mogli pokochać serce moje dumne; Znać, że srogą spełniłem, twardą bożą służbę I zgodziłem się tu mieć - niepłakaną trumnę. Kto drugi bez świata oklasków się zgodzi Iść... taką obojętność, jak ja, mieć dla świata? Być sternikiem duchami niepełnej łodzi, I tak cicho odlecieć, jak duch, gdy odlata? Jednak zostanie po mnie ta siła fatalna, Co mi żywemu na nic... tylko czoło zdobi: Lecz po śmierci was będzie gniotła niewidzialna, Aż was, zjadacze chleba - w aniołów przerobi. ↗
...well, if women's work was never done, why trouble about how much of it wasn't being accomplished at any given moment? ↗
I have often noticed that we are inclined to endow our friends with the stability of type that literary characters acquire in the reader's mind. [...] Whatever evolution this or that popular character has gone through between the book covers, his fate is fixed in our minds, and, similarly, we expect our friends to follow this or that logical and conventional pattern we have fixed for them. Thus X will never compose the immortal music that would clash with the second-rate symphonies he has accustomed us to. Y will never commit murder. Under no circumstances can Z ever betray us. We have it all arranged in our minds, and the less often we see a particular person, the more satisfying it is to check how obediently he conforms to our notion of him every time we hear of him. Any deviation in the fates we have ordained would strike us as not only anomalous but unethical. We could prefer not to have known at all our neighbor, the retired hot-dog stand operator, if it turns out he has just produced the greatest book of poetry his age has seen. ↗
But you have to learn to bend a little,” said Clary with a yawn. Despite the story’s content, the rhythm of Jace’s voice had made her sleepy. “Or you’ll break.” “Not if your strong enough,” said Jace firmly. He reached out, and she felt the back of his hand brush her cheek… ↗
I wouldn't want to fuck you if you had a ten inch knob made of gold and your arsehole was the gate to Nirvana. I can't be friends with you because you're a gibbering twatwaffle, not because I would ever, in a million years, want to shag you. Get over yourself! ↗
