What is it that ties shapes of land to the human heart, Mo?
David MitchellWars are never cured, they just go into remission for a few years.
David MitchellTags: war human-condition
Beg pardon?" I detected large deposits of vanity. Vanity is the softest of bedrocks to sink shafts into.
David MitchellTags: humor
Svijet je školski ravnatelj koji se bavi tvojim manama. Ne mislim u nekom u nekom mističnom ili Isusovom smislu. Nego prije na foru da se uporno spotičeš preko neke skrivene stube, bez kraja i konca, dok ti konačno ne sine: pazi, stuba! Sve su stvari u kojima kiksamo skrivene stube, bilo da smo odveć sebični ili odveć sluga pokoran ili što već. Ili nikad nećeš primijetiti u čemu griješiš pa ćeš dovijeka trpjeti posljedice ili ćeš jednog dana primijetiti i popraviti stvar. A što je najveći vic, kad napokon skužiš gdje je ta skrivena stuba i pomisliš: Ej, pa ipak život nije baš takva koma, slijedi TRES! Strmoglaviš se niz novo skriveno stubište.
Nikad kraja
Other nights, Ayrs likes me to read him poetry, especially his beloved Keats. He whispers the verses as I recite, as if his voice is leaning on mine.
David MitchellTags: poetry
What man ain't the honestest cove in his own eyes?" Grote's round face is a bronze moon in the dark. "'Tain't good intentions what paves the road to hell: it's self-justifyin's.
David MitchellTags: honesty self-perception good-intentions self-justification
I find a certain comfort," confesses Marinus, "in humanity's helplessness.
David MitchellTags: humanity comfort helplessness
- This isn't an interrogation or a trail. Your version of the truth is the only thing that matters.
-Truth is singular. It's 'versions' are mistruths.
Twenty million people live and work in Tokyo. It’s so big that nobody really knows where it stops. It’s long since filled up the plain, and now it’s creeping up the mountains to the west and reclaiming land from the bay in the east. The city never stops rewriting itself. In the time one street guide is produced, it’s already become out of date. It’s a tall city, and a deep one, as well as a spread-out one. Things are always moving below you, and above your head. All these people, flyovers, cars, walkways, subways, offices, tower blocks, power cables, pipes, apartments, it all adds up to a lot of weight. You have to do something to stop yourself caving in, or you just become a piece of flotsam or an ant in a tunnel. In smaller cities people can use the space around them to insulate themselves, to remind themselves of who they are. Not in Tokyo. You just don’t have the space, not unless you’re a company president, a gangster, a politician or the Emperor. You’re pressed against people body to body in the trains, several hands gripping each strap on the metro trains. Apartment windows have no view but other apartment windows.
David MitchellReality is the page. Life is the word.
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