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Quote by Frank Herbert

“Soltanto i progressisti pensano davvero. Soltanto i progressisti sono intellettuali. Soltanto i progressisti capiscono i bisogni dei loro simili. Quanta cattiveria si annidava in quella parola!, pensò Odrade. Quanto ego segreto che esigeva di sentirsi superiore.”

Quote by Frank Herbert

Work

Heretics of Dune

In this science fiction novel, readers are taken on a journey through the intricate universe of Frank Herbert's Dune series. The narrative delves into the formation of a new religious movement, offering a unique perspective on the established power structures and the quest for spiritual enlightenment. The story is rich with political intrigue, philosophical musings, and the exploration of the human condition in a futuristic setting. more

Author

Frank Herbert
Frank Herbert

Frank Herbert, born on October 8, 1920, was an influential science fiction author from the United States. His masterpiece 'Dune' is considered a classic in the science fiction genre and has had a profound impact on literature and society. more

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“Vorrei dirlo con chiarezza: non stiamo vivendo soltanto la crisi di una sinistra in rovina, la crisi di una democrazia nel mondo intero, la crisi di uno Stato sempre più burocratizzato, la crisi di una società dominata dal denaro, la crisi di un umanesimo sopraffatto da odio e violenza, la crisi di un pianeta devastato dall'onnipotenza del profitto, la crisi sanitaria scatenata dalle epidemie. Stiamo vivendo, sopratutto, una crisi più insidiosa, invisibile e radicale: la crisi del pensiero".”

“Beauty and stone In the huge town square, A statue carved from stone witnessed every passer by, And wondered how it could similar movements acquire, So that it too could walk if not fly, Its eyes constantly looked at the strange faces, Its posture was always the same, It stood at just one place and it could never visit other places, For it had sacrificed everything in the static beauty’s name, That is still, motionless, feelingless and always the same, It even perceives different things with single perception of mind, Cursed to play over and over again the same game, Because for the statue-like beauty everything is predefined, The posture, the view, the stance, and I guess even its every thought, At least that is how I feel when I look at the statue placed in the main town square, It seems to seek what it since eternity has sought, Because it may bear a fixed expression, but that has nothing to do with its desire, Because it expresses what its sculptor felt, And in this crowded town square it looks the same every night, everyday and every time, Of its own sweet will it has never with anything dealt, It has witnessed many lovers’ kisses, and it has been witness to many a crime, But it is its irony to be a statue and nothing else, Beautiful to look at and admire, But it has a missing pulse, That of real, warm, sensitive and sensate beauty in its prime, So, I sometimes look at it and just pretend it noticed me, As I leave the spot, I see it unmoved and feelingless, To it nothing matters, who you are or who you wish to be, Because it is just beauty carved from stone, completely lifeless, And then my love I think of you, and I miss you, So I leave the statue and its stone carved beauty behind, Because the statue is beautiful, but it cannot be you, Therefore, instead in my memories and in my heart beats you I discover and always manage to find!”