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Olga Tokarczuk Books

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Flights

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Empuzjon

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Lalka i perła

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Los errantes

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The Empusium

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“There exists in Ein Sof, that is, in the Infinite itself, in the divine source, absolute good, which is the origin and source of all perfection and all good in the world. It is perfection, and perfection requires no alterations, it is dignified and immovable, there can be no movement in it. But for us, who look upon it from the underside of creation, from afar, this motionlessness seems dead, and therefore bad, yet perfection excludes movement, creation, change, and therefore the very possibility of our freedom. That is why it is said that in the depths of absolute good, the root of all evil is concealed, and that root is the negation of every miracle, every movement, and all that is possible and all that might still happen. For us, then, for people, good is something other than what it is for God. For us, good is the tension between God’s perfection and his withdrawal in order that the world might arise. For us, good is the absence of God from where he could instead be.”

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Book:The Books of Jacob
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“I have nowhere to return to. It's like a state of imprisonment. The walls of the cell are the horizon of what I can see. Beyond them exists a world that's alien to me and doesn't belong to me. So for people like me the only thing possible is here and now, for every future is doubtful, everything yet to come is barely sketched and uncerain, like a mirage that can be destroyed by the slightest twitch of the air. That's what was going through my mind as we sat there in silence. It was better than a conversation.”

SilenceReturnConversationImprisonmentNowhere
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“There were corporeal, psychic, and spiritual people. Somatics, psychics, and pneumatics, they called them, from the Greek. Equality goes against nature, however rightly one might strive toward it. Some are made of more earthly elements, and those people are thick, sensual, and non-creative. They are only good for listening. Others live with their hearts, their emotions, in bursts of the soul, and others still have contact with the highest spirit, distant from the body, free from affects, spacious inside. It is to this final group that God has access.”

SoulGreekPsychicSomaticCorporealJewish MysticismPneumatic
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“the human soul is part of the great cosmic stream that flows through all creatures. It is a single force, one motion, but when a person is born into a physical body, when he comes into the world as an individual being, that soul has to separate from the rest, otherwise a person would not be able to live—the soul would drown in the One, and the person would go mad in just a few instants. That is why such a soul gets sealed, that is, seals are stamped upon it that will not let it mix with that unity but will allow it to operate in the finite, bounded world of matter.”

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Book:The Books of Jacob
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“Asher Rubin thinks that most people are truly idiots, and that it is human stupidity that is ultimately responsible for introducing sadness into the world. It isn’t a sin or a trait with which human beings are born, but a false view of the world, a mistaken evaluation of what is seen by our eyes. Which is why people perceive every thing in isolation, each object separate from the rest. Real wisdom lies in linking everything together—that’s when the true shape of all of it emerges.”

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Book:The Books of Jacob
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“What's the point of population censuses, if people keep changing and turning into someone else? Why does an adult bear the same first name as when he was a child? Why does a once loved woman still have her husband's surname when he's betrayed and abandoned her? Why do men go on bearing the same name when they come back from war, or why does a boy beaten by his father keep the same idiotic name when he starts to beat his own children?”

NamesChange
Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“Tenderness is spontaneous and disinterested; it goes far beyond empathetic fellow feeling. Instead it is the conscious, though perhaps slightly melancholy, common sharing of fate. Tenderness is deep emotional concern about another being, its fragility, its unique nature, and its lack of immunity to suffering and the effects of time. Tenderness perceives the bonds that connect us, the similarities and sameness between us. It is a way of looking that shows the world as being alive, living, interconnected, cooperating with, and codependent on itself. Literature is built on tenderness toward any being other than ourselves. It is the basic psychological mechanism of the novel. Thanks to this miraculous tool, the most sophisticated means of human communication, our experience can travel through time, reaching those who have not yet been born, but who will one day turn to what we have written, the stories we told about ourselves and our world.”

LiteratureCompassionEmpathyEmotionsConcernConnectionTenderness
Author:Olga Tokarczuk
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“Jak wygląda świat, kiedy życie staje się tęsknotą? Wygląda papierowo, kruszy się w palcach, rozpada. Każdy ruch przygląda się sobie, każda myśl przygląda się sobie, każde uczucie zaczyna się i nie kończy, i w końcu sam przedmiot tęsknoty staje się papierowy i nierzeczywisty. Tylko tęsknienie jest prawdziwe, uzależnia. Być tam, gdzie się nie jest, mieć to, czego się nie posiada, dotykać kogoś, kto nie istnieje. Ten stan ma naturę falującą i sprzeczną w sobie. jest kwintesencją życia i jest przeciwko życiu. Przenika skórę do mięśni i kości, które zaczynają odtąd istnieć boleśnie. Nie boleć. Istnieć boleśnie – to znaczy, że podstawą ich istnienia był ból. Toteż nie ma od takiej tęsknoty ucieczki. Trzeba by uciec poza własne ciało, a nawet poza siebie. Upijać się? Spać całe tygodnie? Zapamiętywać się w aktywności aż do amoku? Modlić się nieustannie?”

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Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“There are two kinds of learning, from the inside and from the outside. The first is regarded as the best, or even the only kind. And so people learn through distant journeys, watching, reading, universities and lectures — they learn from what is happening outside them. Man is a stupid creature who has to learn. So he tacks knowledge onto himself, he gathers it like a bee, gaining more and more of it, putting it to use and processing it. But the thing inside that is “stupid” and needs learning doesn’t change.”

Learning
Book:Primeval and Other Times
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“Augau nuostabioje epochoje, deja, ji jau praėjo. Žmonės buvo pasirengę dideliems pokyčiams ir gebėjo austi revoliucines vizijas. Šiandien jau niekas neturi drąsos sugalvoti ką nors nauja. Be paliovos tik kalbama, kaip yra, ir plėtojamos senos idėjos. Tikrovė paseno, suruko, nes juk paklūsta absoliučiai tiems patiems dėsniams kaip kiekvienas gyvas organizmas – sensta. Jos smulkiausi elementai – prasmės patiria apoptozę, kaip kūno ląstelės. Apoptozė – tai natūrali mirtis, kurią lemia nuovargis ir materijos išsekimas. Graikiškai šį žodį galima versti „žiedlapių numetimas“. Pasaulis numetė žiedlapius.”

LifeReality Of Life
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“To be impatient means never really living, being always in the future, in what will happen, but which is after all not yet here. Do not impatient people resemble spirits who are never here in this place, and now, in this very moment, but rather sticking their heads out of life like those wanderers who supposedly, when they found themselves at the end of the world, just looked onward, beyond the horizon? What did they see there? What is it that an impatient person hopes to glimpse?”

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Book:The Books of Jacob
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“Boros's presence reminded me what it's like to live with someone. And how very awkward it is. How much it diverts you from your own thoughts and distracts you. How another Person starts to irritate you without actually doing anything annoying, but simply by being there. Each morning when he went off to the forest, I blessed my glorious solitude. How do people manage to spend decades living together in a small space? I wondered. How can they possibly sleep in the same bed together, breathing on and jostling each other accidentally in their sleep? I'm not saying it hasn't happened to me too. For some time I shared my bed with a Catholic, and nothing good came of it.”

Solitude
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Kiedy sny powtarzają zdarzenia z przeszłości, kiedy ją międlą, zmieniają w obrazy, przesypują przez sita znaczeń, zaczyna mi się wydawać, że przeszłość tak samo jak przyszłość na zawsze pozostanie nieodgadniona i nieznana. To, że coś przeżyłam, wcale nie znaczy, że poznałam tego znaczenie. Dlatego tak samo boję się o przeszłość, jak i o przyszłość. Niechby się okazało, że coś, co znałam i uważałam do tej pory za stałe i pewne, mogło się dziać z zupełnie innej przyczyny i w sposób, jakiego nie podejrzewałam. Że prowadziło mnie ku czemu innemu, a ja nie odkryłam kierunku, że byłam ślepa, że spałam. Co pocznę ze swoim teraz?”

ReasonPastDreamsUknown
Book:House of Day, House of Night
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“Isn't this the very glue that holds the human world together? Isn't this why we need other people, to give us the pleasure of knowing we are better than they are? Amazingly, even those who seem to be the worst-off take, in their humiliation, a perverse satisfaction in the fact that no one has it worse than they do. Thus they have still, in some sense, won. Where does this all come from? Asher wonders. Can man not be repaired? If he were a machine, as some now argue, it would suffice to adjust one little lever slightly, or to tighten some small screw, and people would start to take pleasure in treating one another as equals.”

EqualityInequalityManMysticismJudaismHierarchyMachineDescartesJacob Frank
Book:The Books of Jacob
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“The human psyche evolved in order to defend itself against seeing the truth. To prevent us from catching sight of the mechanism. The psyche is our defense system - it makes sure we'll never understand what's going on around us. Its main task is to filter information, even though the capabilities of our brains are enormous. For it would be impossible for us to carry the weight of this knowledge. Because every tiny particle of the world is made of suffering.”

PsychologyExistential
Book:Prowadź swój pług przez kości umarłych
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“Then, however, Mayer thought it fitting to remind her of the most important thing: 'Between the heart and the tongue lies an abyss,' he said. "Remember that. Thoughts must be concealed, particularly since you were born, to your great misfortune, a woman. Think so that they think you are not thinking. Behave in such a way that you mislead others. We all must do this, but women more so. Talmudists know about the strength of women, but they fear it .... But we don't ... because we ourselves are like women. We survive by hiding. We play the fools, pretending to be people we are not. We come home, and then we take off our masks. But we bear the burden of silence: masa duma.”

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Book:The Books of Jacob
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“Mis dolencias aparecen de forma traicionera, nunca se sabe cuándo. Algo sucede en mi cuerpo, y lo primero que me duelen son los huesos. Es un dolor desagradable, empalagoso y constante. No desaparece durante horas, y a veces ni siquiera durante días. No es posible esconderse de este dolor, no hay ni pastillas ni inyecciones para calmarlo. Tiene que hacerme daño, igual que un río está obligado a fluir y el fuego a arder. Me recuerda cruelmente que estoy hecha de efímeras partículas materiales que se desgastan a cada segundo. ¿Podría acostumbrarme a él? Vivir como viven las personas en las ciudades de Oswiecim -la Auschwitz nazi- o Hiroshima, sin pensar en absoluto en lo que ocurrió anteriormente allí. Simplemente viven. Al dolor de huesos le siguen el dolor de estómago, de intestino, de hígado, de todo lo que tenemos dentro. Un dolor persistente, que solo la glucosa es capaz de atenuar parcialmente, por lo que siempre llevo unas ampollas en mis bolsillos. Nunca sé cuándo puedo sufrir un ataque, cuándo voy a sentirme peor. A veces tengo la impresión de que estoy construida únicamente con síntomas de enfermedad, de que soy un fantasma hecho de dolor. Cuando no consigo reponerme, imagino que en el estómago, desde el cuello hasta el perineo, tengo una cremallera y que la voy abriendo lentamente, de arriba abajo. Y después saco las manos de las manos, las piernas de las piernas y la cabeza de la cabeza. Salgo de mi propio cuerpo y este cae como un montón de ropa vieja. Soy pequeña y delicada, casi transparente. Mi cuerpo es como el de una medusa: blanco, lechoso, fosforescente. Solo esa fantasía es capaz de proporcionarme cierto alivio. Me ayuda a liberarme también.”

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Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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“Habitamos el cuerpo, ese equipaje molesto; en realidad no sabemos nada de él y necesitamos emplear diferentes herramientas a fin de conocer sus procesos más sencillos. La última vez que el médico quiso saber qué pasaba en mi estómago me pidió que me hiciera una gastroscopia, lo cual me pareció un escándalo. Tuve que tragarme un tubo muy grueso y sólo entonces, con ayuda de una cámara, el interior de mi estómago se hizo visible. La única herramienta que nos han reglado como premio de consolación, tosca y primitiva, es el dolor" Si existen los ángeles, se estarán partiendo de risa con nosotros: recibieron un cuerpo y no saben nada de él. Se lo dieron sin instrucciones de uso.”

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Book:Prowadź swój pług przez kości umarłych
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“I see everything as if in a dark mirror, as if through smoked glass. I view the world in the same way as others look at the Sun in eclipse. Thus I see the Earth in eclipse. I see us moving about blindly in eternal Gloom, like the May bugs trapped in a box by a cruel child. It's easy to harm and injure us, to smash up our intricately assembled, bizarre existence. I interpret everything as abnormal, terrible and threatening. I see nothing but Catastrophes. But as the Fall is the beginning, can we possibly fall even lower?”

LifeBeliefExistenceCrueltyConfusionHardshipPessimismDreadGloomAbnormality
Book:Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
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