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Famous Olga Tokarczuk Quotes

“There is something wonderful in being a stranger, in being foreign, something to be relished, something as alluring as sweets. It is good not to be able to understand a language, not to know the customs, to glide like a spirit among others who are distant and unrecognizable. Then a particular kind of wisdom awakens—an ability to surmise, to grasp the things that aren't obvious. Cleverness and acumen come about. A person who is a stranger gains a new point of view, becomes, whether he likes it or not, a particular type of sage. Who was it who convinced us that being comfortable and familiar was so great? Only foreigners can truly understand the way things work.”

StrangenessForeignness
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“[...] ludzie mają potężną potrzebę, żeby czuć się lepszymi od innych. Nieważne, kim są, muszą mieć kogoś, kto byłby gorszy od nich. Kto jest gorszy, kto lepszy, zależy od wielu przypadkowych cech. Ci, co mają jasne oczy, myślą z wyższością o tych ciemnookich. Ci ciemnoocy zaś patrzą z góry na jasnookich. Ci, co mieszkają pod lasem, czują jakąś wyższość nad tymi, co mieszkają nad stawami, i odwrotnie. Chłopi patrzą z wyższością na Żydów, Żydzi zaś z wyższością na chłopów. Mieszczanie czują się lepsi niż mieszkańcy wsi, a ci ze wsi traktują tych z miasta jak jakichś gorszych. Czy to nie jest spoiwem ludzkiego świata? Czy po to są nam potrzebni inni ludzie, żeby nam dostarczać radości, żeśmy d nich lepsi? O dziwo, nawet ci - wydawałoby się - najgorsi w swoim poniżeniu znajdują przewrotną satysfakcję, że nie ma już gorszych od nich, a więc właśnie w tym są górą. Skąd się to bierze, zastanawia się Aszer. Czy nie dałoby się człowieka naprawić? Gdyby był maszyną, jak teraz niektórzy mówią, wystarczyłoby przesunąć lekko dżwigienkę czy dokręcić małą śrubkę, a ludzie zaczęliby znajdować wielką przyjemność w traktowaniu się jak równi.”

LudzieRówność
Book:Księgi Jakubowe
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“One must keep one's eyes and ears open, one must know how to match up the facts, see similarity where others see total difference, remember that certain events occur at various levels or, to put it another way, many incidents are aspects of the same, single occurrence. And that the world is a great big net, it is a whole, where no single thing exists separately; every scrap of the world, every last tiny piece, is bound up with the rest by a complex Cosmos of correspondences, hard for the ordinary mind to penetrate.”

EventsCosmosWeb Of LifePhenomenaNetSystems TheoryInterconnectionsOccurence
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“After the wife died, he made a list of places that had the same name as her: Ruth. He found quite a few of them, not only towns, but also streams, little settlements, hills – even an island. He said he was doing it for her sake, and besides, it gave him strength to see that in some indefinable way she still existed in the world, even if only in name. And that furthermore, whenever he would stand at the foot of a hill called Ruth, he would get the sense she hadn’t died at all, that she was right there, just differently. (P309)”

Flights
Book:Flights
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“I took to heart what Isohar had taught us. He said that there are four types of readers. There is the reading sponge, the reading funnel, the reading colander, and the reading sieve. The sponge absorbs everything it comes into contact with; and it is evident he remembers much of it later, too. But he is not able to filter out what is most important. The funnel takes in what he reads at one end, while at the other, everything he's read pours out of him. The strainer lets through the wine and keeps the sediment; he ought not to read at all -- it would be infinitely better if he simply dedicated himself to some manual trade. The sieve, on the other hand, separates out the chaff, to give a result of only the finest grains. 'I want you to be like sieves, and to discard all that is not good or interesting,' Isohar would say to us.”

ReadersColanderSieveStrainer
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“Perciò la morte dovrebbe farci gioire. Erano questi i miei pensieri mentre cantavo, ma in fondo non ho mai creduto a una distribuzione personale della Luce. Nessun Signore Iddio se ne occuperà, nessun contabile celeste. Un unico individuo potrebbe difficilmente sopportare tanta sofferenza, soprattutto se è onnisciente, credo che andrebbe in pezzi sotto il peso di questo dolore, a meno che non si sia già munito di certi meccanismi di difesa, come l'Uomo. Solo una macchina sarebbe in grado di sopportare tutto il dolore del mondo. Solo un congegno semplice, efficace e giusto. Ma dal momento che tutto dovrebbe accadere meccanicamente, allora le nostre preghiere sono superflue.”

GodDeathQuestion Of Life
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“When I look at him, I see that there are people who are born with something that I cannot find the words for, something that means that others respect them and hold them in the highest esteem. I don’t know what it is—is it posture, is it a head held high, a penetrating gaze, a way of walking? Or maybe some spirit hovering around him? An angel who keeps him company? He has only to enter any space, be it the most decrepit shed or the holiest chamber, and all eyes turn to him at once, pleasure and appreciation on everyone’s face, although he has not yet done or said a thing. ...But I also fear falling into blind love, exaggerated and unhealthy, like that Heshel, who, if he could, would lie down like a dog at his feet.”

LoveReformCharismaPoland18th CenturyJudiasmCharismatic LeaderJacob Frank
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“The planet’s witnessing the appearance of a new creature now, ones that have already conquered all continents and almost every ecological niche. They travel in packs and are anemophilous, covering large distances without difficulty. Now I see them from the window of the bus, these airborne anemones, whole packs of them, roaming the desert. Individual specimens cling on tight to brittle little desert plants, fluttering noisily-perhaps this is the way they communicate. The experts say these plastic bags open up a whole new chapter of earthly existence, breaking nature’s age-old habits. They’re made up of their surfaces exclusively, empty on the inside, and this historic forgoing of all content unexpectedly affords them great evolutionary benefits.”

EvolutionGarbagePlastic Bags
Book:Flights
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“La mia Venere è danneggiata oppure è in esilio, si dice così di un Pianeta che non si trova nel segno in cui dovrebbe essere. (...) Questa situazione fa sì, ritengo, che io abbia la sindrome della Venere Pigra. È così che chiamo questo Fenomeno. In questo caso abbiamo a che fare con un Essere umano che ha ricevuto molto dalla sorte, ma non ha assolutamente sfruttato il suo potenziale. (...) Una Venere così produce uno strano genere di pigrizia: le occasioni della vita ci passano sotto il naso perché si è dormito troppo, perché non ci si è voluti muovere, perché si è arrivati in ritardo, perché si è trascurato qualcosa. È l'inclinazione al sibaritismo, a una vita vissuta in un lieve dormiveglia, è la dispersione in piccoli piaceri, l'avversione per lo sforzo e la totale mancanza di tensione verso la competizione. Le mattinate lunghe, le lettere non aperte, gli impegni rimandati a dopo, i progetti abbandonati. L'avversione a ogni autorità e alla sudditanza, un silenzioso e pigro fare di testa propria. Si può dire che gente così non serve a nulla.”

Riflessioni
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Il raccolto della mia vita non è fondamento di nulla, né del mio tempo, adesso, né in nessun altro tempo, mai. Ma perché dovremmo essere utili, e rispetto a chi? Chi ha diviso il mondo in inutile e utile, e con quale diritto? Il cardo non ha il diritto di vivere, oppure il Topo che mangia il grano nei depositi, le Api e i Fuchi, la gramigna e le rose? Ma quale mente ha avuto la faccia tosta di giudicare chi è migliore e chi peggiore? L'albero grande, storto e pieno di buchi, è durato per secoli e non è stato tagliato perché in nessun caso se ne sarebbe potuto fare alcunché. Questo esempio dovrebbe risollevare lo spirito di quelli come me. Tutti conoscono i vantaggi dell'utile, ma nessuno conosce il profitto dell'inutile.”

Riflessioni
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Anyone who has ever tried to write a novel knows what an arduous task it is, undoubtedly one of the worst ways of occupying oneself. You have to remain within yourself all the time, in solitary confinement. It's a controlled psychosis, an obsessive paranoia manacled to work completely lacking in the feather pens and bustles and Venetian masks we would ordinarily associate with it, clothed instead in a butcher's apron and rubber boots, eviscerating knife in hand. You can only barely see from that writerly cellar the feet of passers-by, hear the rapping of their heels. Every so often someone stops and bends down and glances in through the window, and then you get a glimpse of a human face, maybe even exchange a few words. But ultimately the mind is so occupied with its own act, a play staged by the self ofr the self in a hasty, makeshift cabinet of curiosities peopled by author and character, narrator and reader, the person describing and the person described, that feet, shoes, heels, and faces become, sooner or later, mere components of that act.”

WritingWritersWriting Process
Book:Flights
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“It's clear that the largest things are contained in the smallest. There can be no doubt about it. At this very moment, as I write, there's a planetary configuration on this table, the entire Cosmos if you like: a thermometer, a coin, an aluminum spoon and a porcelain cup. A key, a mobile phone, a piece of paper and pen. And one of my grey hairs, whose atoms preserve the memory of the origins of life, of the cosmic Catastrophe that gave the world its beginning.”

LifeDetailsCosmosInterconnectednessOriginsMinutia
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Każda taka rozmowa wyczerpywała się sama i siedziałyśmy obok siebie na schodkach jej domu albo na moim tarasie, na metalowych krzesłach, które od zeszłorocznych deszczy zaczęły rdzewieć. Milczenie, jakie się między nami zasiało, milczenie-samosiejka rozrastało się na wszystkie strony, łapczywie zabierając nam przestrzeń. Nie było już czym oddychać. A im dłużej milczałyśmy, tym mniej możliwe stawało się wypowiedzenie jakiegokolwiek słowa, tym odleglejsze i mniej ważne wydawały się wszelkie możliwe tematy. Takie milczenie bywało aksamitne, ciepłe jak styropian, było miłe w dotyku i suche, było jedwabne. Ale czasem bałam się, że Marta może nie czuć tego co ja i zamachnie się na tę naszą ciszę jakimś nieopatrznym „No tak…” albo „Tak to jest…”, albo nawet czystym, niewinnym westchnieniem. I ten strach zaczynał mi psuć całą przyjemność z milczenia, bo stawałam się mimowolnie jego strażnikiem, a więc i jego więźniem, i naprężałam się gdzieś w środku, jeżyłam na oczekiwany z niepokojem moment, że coś gładko cudownego, coś niewymuszenie oczywistego stanie się nieznośne i kiedyś się wreszcie skończy. I cóż sobie wtedy powiemy, Marto? Ale Marta okazywała się zawsze mądrzejsza ode mnie. Wstawała bezszelestnie i niezauważalnie odchodziła do swojego rabarbaru, do peruk trzymanych w tekturowych pudełkach, a nasza wspólnie wypielęgnowana roślina, nasza wspólna cisza rozciągała się w ślad za nią i było jej jeszcze więcej niż przedtem, jeszcze potężniej rosła. Wtedy zostawałam w niej sama, dwuwymiarowa, bez właściwości, w półistnieniu, które mogło być tylko rozwleczonym w czasie olśnieniem.”

SilenceNo TalkingPleasure Of Silence
Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“A menudo me pregunto por qué nos gustan unas personas y no otras. Y sobre este tema tengo mi propia teoría: existe una forma armónica e ideal a la que de manera instintiva tiende nuestro cuerpo. Escogemos en los otros aquellos rasgos que podrían cumplir con ese ideal. El objetivo de la evolución es meramente estético y nada tiene que ver con ninguna adaptación. A la evolución lo que le interesa es la belleza, alcanzar la máxima perfección de cada forma”

EvoluciónBellezaAtracción
Book:Prowadź swój pług przez kości umarłych
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“So zunanje in notranje reči. Zunanje so navideznost in mi živimo v zunanjih rečeh, v navideznosti, kakor ljudje v sanjah, zakone te navideznosti pa moramo jemati za prave, četudi niso takšni. Kadar živiš na kraju in v času, v katerem veljajo neki zakoni, takrat se moraš teh zakonov držati, toda nikdar pozabiti, da so to samo pogojne ureditve. Kajti resnica je druga, in če kdo ni pripravljen na to, da bi jo spoznal, se mu lahko zazdi grozljiva in strašna, in preklinjal bo dan, ko jo je izvedel. Toda sam mislim, da vsak človek čuti s celim seboj, kako je v resnici. Vendar tega v bistvu noče izvedeti.”

ResnicaNavideznost
Book:Księgi Jakubowe
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“When you're traveling you need to take care of yourself to get by, you have to keep an eye on yourself and your place in the world. It means concentrating on yourself, thinking about yourself and looking after yourself. So when you travel all you really encounter is yourself, as if that were the whole point of it. When you're at home you simply are, you don't have to struggle with anything or achieve anything. You don't have to worry about the railways connections, and timetables, you don't need to experience any thrills or disappointments. You can put yourself to one side - and that's when you see the most.”

InspirationalSelfTimeBeautyStruggleTravelDisappointmentThrillsRailways
Author:Olga Tokarczuk
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“Joidenkin kanssa keskusteleminen vain on hankalaa – useimmiten nämä ihmiset ovat miehiä. Minulla on aiheesta ihan Teoriakin. Monet miehet sairastuvat vanhetessaan testosteroniautismiin, ja se ilmenee sosiaalisen älykkyyden ja kommunikaatiotaitojen katoamisena. Se myös vaikeuttaa ajatusten muotoilemista. Tämän Vaivan uhriksi joutunut Mies muuttuu vaiteliaaksi, on kuin hän olisi koko ajan omissa mietteissään. Häntä vetävät puoleensa lähinnä erilaiset Työkalut ja laitteet. Hän on kiinnostunut toisesta maailmansodasta ja kuuluisuuksien elämäkerroista, varsinkin poliitikkojen ja pahantekijöiden. Kyky lukea romaaneja katoaa häneltä lähes kokonaan, sillä testosteroniautismi vaikeuttaa henkilöhahmojen psykologian ymmärtämistä.”

HuumoriMiehetLuonteenpiirteet
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Borosin läsnäolo palautti mieleeni, millaista on asua jonkun kanssa. Miten vaivaannuttavaa se on. Miten se sekoittaa ajatukset ja herpaannuttaa tarkkaavaisuuden. Miten toinen Ihminen alkaa ärsyttää, ei edes siksi, että tekisi jotakin ärsyttävää, vaan ihan pelkästään siksi, että on. Kun Boros lähti aamulla ulos, siunasin ihanaa yksinäisyyttäni. Mietin, miten jotkut saattoivat elää jopa vuosikymmeniä toisen kanssa jossakin pienessä tilassa. Nukkua samassa sängyssä, hönkiä toisen päälle ja unessa töniä toista vahingossa.”

HuumoriIhmisetParisuhteetYksinoloLäsnäoloSeura
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Then for a brief moment he saw everything completely differently. Open space, empty and endless, stretched away in all “directions. Everything within this dead expanse, every living thing was helpless and alone. Things were happening by accident, and when the accident failed, automatic law appeared – the rhythmical machinery of nature, the cogs and pistons of history, conformity with the rules that was rotting from the inside and crumbling to dust. Cold and sorrow reigned everywhere. Every creature was trying to huddle up to something, to cling to something, to things, to each other, but all that resulted was suffering and despair. The quality of what Izydor saw was temporality. Under a colourful outer coating everything was merging in collapse, decay, and destruction.”

TimeTemporality
Book:Primeval and Other Times
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“For some reason people have developed a liking for only one sort of transformation. They are fond of increase and development, but not decrease and disintegration. They prefer ripening to decay. They like things to be younger and younger, more and more juicy, fresh and unripe; they like things that are not yet fully moulded, still a bit angular; driven by a powerful spring of potential, what might still happen, always the moment before, never after.”

PeopleTimeYouthTransformationDecay
Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“Then I realized that it's not that I want to be old — it's not a particular age I'm longing for, but a certain way of life, one that's reserved for old age, perhaps. It involves not taking action, but if you do, doing it slowly, as if it's not the result of the action that matters, but the actual movement. It means watching the ebb and flow of time, but no longer having the courage to go with the tide, or against it. It means ignoring time, as if it were just a naive advertisement for something else that's truly desirable, and doing nothing, just counting the strokes of the living-room clock, the pit-a-pat of pigeon's feet on the windowsill, and the beats of your heart— and the immediately forgetting them all. It means not longing or thirsting for anything—”

AgeTimeAgeing
Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“Mas por que razão devemos ser úteis, e em relação a quê? Quem dividiu o mundo em útil e inútil, e com que direito? Será que o cardo não tem direito à vida? Ou o Rato que come o grão de trigo dos celeiros, as Abelhas e os zangões, as ervas daninhas e as rosas? Terá sido a razão que teve o descaramento de julgar quem é melhor e quem é pior? A árvore grande, retorcida e esburacada, que persistiu ao longo dos séculos, não foi abatida porque dela não seria possível fabricar nada de jeito. Este exemplo devia animar as pessoas como nós. Todos conhecem os proveitos daquilo que é útil, mas ninguém conhece os proveitos daquilo que é inútil.”

InútilúTil
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“You know what, sometimes it seems to me we're living in a world that we fabricate for ourselves. We decide what's good and what isn't, we draw maps of meanings for ourselves... And then we spend our whole lives struggling with what we have invented for ourselves. The problem is that each of us has our own version of it, so people find it hard to understand each other.”

RealityPerspectivePerceptionMeaning
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“They agree only on the point that the most important aspect is reason. For one entire evening they play around with the metaphor of the light of reason that illuminates everything equally and dispassionately. Gertruda remarks immediately and intelligently that wherever something’s brightly lit, there is also a shadow, a darkening. The more powerful the light, the deeper, the more intense the shadow. That’s true, that’s a little bit disturbing; they stop talking for a while.”

LightDarknessRationalUnconsciousIrrationalAge Of ReasonKantAge Of EnlightenmentAufklärung
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“We have done nothing other than waking up at midnight, at the time of the greatest darkness, in our low, dark, cubbyholes, in the cold, to study light. It is the light that has revealed to us that the huge body of matter and its laws is not mechut, or real, and also all its shapes and manifestations, its infinite forms, its laws and habits. The truth of the world is not matter, but the vibration of the sparks of light, that constant flickering that is located in every last thing.”

Light
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“The light moved within itself and flared up. A pillar of light tore into the darkness and there it found matter that had been immobile forever. It struck it with full force, until it awoke God in it. Still unconscious, still unsure what He was, God looked around Him, and as He saw no one apart from Himself, He realised that He was God. And unnamed for Himself, incomprehensible to Himself, He felt the desire to know Himself. When He looked closely at Himself for the first time, the Word came forth –it seemed to God that knowing was naming.”

SelfGodLightTimeExistenceKnowingCreationNaming
Book:Primeval and Other Times
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