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Famous Lidija Stankovikj Quotes

“Yesterday,’ she said, referring to the collective past of her tribe, ‘the people of these forests knew the secret. They made the finest silk thread from the cocoon of a beautiful sleeping butterfly. The women reeled the silk thread on the spinning wheel, slowly and gently. Such delicate work it was, that the silk remembered, at last, the moth which had created it. And the women were awed at the silver shine of the silk produced. If the silk is so divine, they thought, what must be the beauty of the butterfly waiting to be born? They stopped breaking the cocoons and looked for the crimson wings of the butterflies emerging from the torn nests of raw silk. The sight took them aback. They became sages and storytellers..”

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Book:The Outcasts - A Thousand Dreams of Redemption
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“India is much of a strange land; it is perhaps the only place in the world that exists in so many differing yet synchronous forms. First, there is India of your imagination—the one cultivated by the stories you’ve heard, the books you have read, the dreams your inner eye has seen. Second, there is India you will actually witness, the perpetual kiss of opposites—India the magnificent and the lamentable, India the intimate and the daunting, India the modern and the chaotic. And then, there is India at its rough core; the one so paradoxical and complex, so raw and self-standing, that it has inevitably slipped the grip of the hearts and the minds of innumerable poets, hermits, philosophers, historians, warriors, and of course, politicians. I have heard, many times, that this land is like a mirror, one that reflects, or rather throws back at you—with such a stern congruity—your current state of mind. But make no mistake—even if you brace yourself with all the psychological, philosophical and spiritual tools at your disposal, you can never be prepared for what awaits you. India is a manifold of beauty and of ugliness, and of million shades in-between, all of which exist in a continuum. India is like its gods and goddesses endowed with multitude of faces and plentitude of limbs, gorgeous and terrible, but absolutely complete.”

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Book:Alexander's Infinity
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“Yesterday, she said, referring to the collective past of her tribe, the people of these forests knew the secret. They made the finest silk thread from the cocoon of a beautiful sleeping butterfly. The women reeled the silk thread on the spinning wheel, slowly and gently. Such delicate work it was, that the silk remembered, at last, the moth which had created it. And the women were awed at the silver shine of the silk produced. If the silk is so divine, they thought, what must be the beauty of the butterfly waiting to be born? They stopped breaking the cocoons and looked for the crimson wings of the butterflies emerging from the torn nests of raw silk. The sight took them aback. They became sages and storytellers. My mother’s mother was one of them.”

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Book:The Outcasts - A Thousand Dreams of Redemption
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