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Quote by Stevan Pešić

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Katmandu

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Stevan Pešić

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“Nije još mogla da objasni, čak ni sebi, san koji je usnila posle njihovog susreta u kantini. Gospode, zapanjila se kad su joj sutradan u glavi iskrsnuli odjeci tog sna. Nije bio seksualan; opio ju je daleko više, i bio je mnogo opasniji. Taj san ju je ispunio snažnom i neobjašnjivom čežnjom za dalekim mestima i vremenima, žudnjom za koju je mislila da ju je odavno prerasla, a kad se ujutru probudila i shvatila da mora živeti bez te čežnje, osetila se kao da joj je umro neko drag. Trudila se da izbaci iz glave taj san, njegove glade senke koje su odbijale da se rasplinu.”

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Book:The Rose Garden
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“Ik onderscheid vijf typen indicatorisme: 1. het uitvoeren van makkelijke, indicator verbeterende taken; 2. het vermijden van moeilijke, indicator verslechterende taken; 3. het verbeteren van een indicator voor de korte termijn, ten koste van de langetermijndoelen; 4. het negeren van taken die niet in een indicator zijn opgenomen; 5. het manipuleren of frauderen om een indicator te verbeteren.”

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Book:De meetmaatschappij
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“He sat for long hours among the cypress trees of Tuscany. And never had any trees seemed so like ghosts, like soft, strange, pregnant presences. He lay and watched tall cypresses breathing and communicating, faintly moving and as it were walking in the small wind. And his soul seemed to leave him and to go far away, far back, perhaps, to where life was all different and time passed otherwise than time passes now. As in clairvoyance he perceived it: that our life is only a fragment of the shell of life. That there has been and will be life, human life such as we do not begin to conceive. Much that is life has passed away from men, leaving us all mere bits. In the dark, mindful silence and inflection of the cypress trees, lost races, lost languages, lost human ways of feeling and of knowing. Men have known as we can no more know, have felt as we can no more feel. Great life-realities gone into the darkness. But the cypresses commemorate. In the afternoon, Aaron felt the cypresses rising dark about him, like so many high visitants from an old, lost, lost subtle world, where men had the wonder of demons about them, the aura of demons, such as still clings to the cypresses, in Tuscany.”

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Book:Aaron's Rod
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